:NCH 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

<> 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


COLONEL  WILLIAM  F.  CODY. 
(Buffalo  Bill) 


MAJOR  GORDON  W.  LILLIE. 
(Pawnee  Bill) 


THRILLING   LIVES 


OF 


BUFFALO    BILL 

COLONEL     WM.     F.     CODY 

Last  of  the  Great  Scouts 
AND 

PAWNEE  BILL 

MAJOR  GORDON  W.  LILLIE 


White   Chief  of  the 
Pawnees 


BY 

FRANK  WINCH 


THIRD    EDITION 


Copyrighted,     1911 

by 
COLONEL    WM.    F.    CODY 

and 
MAJOR  GORDON  W.   LILLIE 


S.    L.   PARSONS   &  CO.,   INC. 

Publishers   and   Printers 

No.    45    Rose    Street 

NEW  YORK 

N.  Y. 


BANCROF1 

DEDICATION 


TRIBUTE 

TO 

MOTHER. 

(Copy  of  personal  letter  written  by  Buffalo  Bill  to  the 
author.) 

VISALIA,  CALIFORNIA,  October  13,  1910. 

MY  DEAR  FRANK: — 

Yes — I  had  the  great  pleasure  of  meeting  your  dear 
little  mother,  and  when  I  gazed  on  her  sweet  face  and 
listened  to  her  gentle  voice  she  reminded  me  very  much 
of  my  own  angel  mother  who  was  little  and  sweet  like 
your  mother. 

And,  Frank,  I  grew  up  among  some  of  the  roughest 
men  and  some  of  the  most  desperate  characters  that  ever 
infested  the  border  of  civilization  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  teachings  and  prayers  of  my  mother  I,  too,  might 
have  died  with  my  boots  on.  I  think  to  our  mothers  we 
owe  most.  God  bless  our  mothers. 

Your  true  friend, 

W.  F.  CODY. 
[3] 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


I     .     .     Boyhood  days  of  "Buffalo  Bill"     .     .  9 

II     .     .     Shoots  First  Indian ,  19 

III  .     .     As  Pony  Express  Rider     ....  29 

IV  .    .    A  Civil  War  Spy 39 

V     .     .     Wild  BUl's  Own  Story 51 

VI     .     .     How  "Buffalo  Bill"  Won  His  Name  59 

VII     .     .     Sheridan's  Chief  of  Scouts     ...  71 

VIII     .     .     The  Battle  of  Summit  Springs     .     .  81 
IX     .     .     Cody  Entertains  Royalty  at  Buffalo 

Hunt 91 

X     .     .     Pawnee  Bill's  Boyhood  Days     ...  101 

XI     .     .     Buffalo  Bill  As  an  Actor     ....  115 

XII     .     .     Pawnee  Bill   Meets  Jesse  James     .  125 

XIII  .     .     Buffalo  Bill's  Duel  with  Chief  Yel- 

low Hand 139 

XIV  .     .     Pawnee    Bill   Heads   the   Oklahoma 

Land  Boomers 147 

XV     .     .     Buffalo  Bill  Made  Brigadier-General  157 
XVI     .     .     Opening  of  the  Cherokee  Landstrip, 

Pawnee  Bill  in  the  Lead     .     .     .  165 
XVII     .     .     How  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West  Was 

Organized 175 

XVIII     .     .     Pawnee  Bill,  the  "Jekyll  and  Hyde  of 

the  West" 187 

XIX     .     .     Buffalo  Bill's  Last  Time  on  the  Bat- 
tlefield      195 

XX     .     .     Buffalo  Bill's  Vast  Properties    ...  201 
XXI     .     .     Pawnee    Bill's    Buffalo    Ranch    and 

Home 207 

XXII     .     .     Buffalo  Bill's  Personal  Farewell  in 

the  Saddle 217 

[51 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGES 

Buffalo  Bill Frontispiece 

Pawnee  Bill Frontispiece 

Proclamation 8-9 

Cody's  Boyhood  Friends 16-17 

Custer,  Duke  Alexis,  Buffalo  Bill 24-25 

Characteristic  Pose 32-33 

Close  to  Nature 40-41 

Death  of  "Tall  Bull" 48-49 

The  Wounded  Scout 56-57 

Chief  "Iron  Tail" 64-65 

Shooting  Glass  Balls 72-73 

A  Typical  Cowboy 80-81 

Scenes  from  Cody's  Life 88-89 

Generals  Cody  Served 96-97 

A  Duel  in  the  Open 104-105 

Cody  Meets  the  King 112-113 

Buffalo  Bill  and  Pawnee  Bill      120-121 

Battle  of  Summit  Springs 128-129 

Why  Buffalo  Bill  Retires 136-137 

Buffalo  Bill's  Properties 144-145 

On  the  Cody  Trail 152-153 

A  Band  of  Sioux  Indians 160-161 

Pawnee  Bill's  Home 168-169 

Pawnee  Bill's  Buffalo  Ranch        176-177 

The  Lillie  Family 184-185 

A  Consultation 192-193 

The  Indian  Monument 200-201 

Making  the  War  Bonnet 208-209 

The  Farewell  Salute 216-217 

[6] 


PREFACE. 

History  is  merely  the  chronicle  of  great  men.  Their 
deeds  remain  alive  forever — time  and  epochs  flicker  only 
a  moment  and  are  succeeded  again  by  time  and  men. 
As  we  each  span  our  brief  career,  it  is  given  to  some  to 
know  great  men  only  by  the  history  they  create — others 
to  do  with,  to  know  personally,  to  enjoy  their  confidence, 
to  study  at  close  range  the  qualities  that  differentiate 
greatness. 

It  is  just  this  favored  opportunity  of  intimate  observa- 
tion that  prompts  the  dual  life  histories  of  Buffalo  Bill  and 
Pawnee  Bill.  Buffalo  Bill's  fame  was  spreading  when  the 
gray  heads  of  to-day  were  romping  youngsters  of  yester- 
day, others  grow  old  but  the  famous  Scout  seemed  to  revel 
in  perpetual  youth,  at  last,  however,  the  inevitable  is 
clocking  off  the  showmanship  days  of  Buffalo  Bill,  he 
has  decreed  the  present  season  as  his  farewell  in  the  sad- 
dle. He  retires  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  a  life  teeming  with 
danger,  sorrows,  joys  and  struggles  crowned  with  the 
ineffable  gift  of  being  America's  most  loved  and  Ideal 
Hero  Horseman. 

The  question  is  asked,  "Who  will  take  Buffalo  Bill's 
place  ?"  and  the  following  pages  will  couple  in  golden  links 
the  passing  of  the  world's  greatest  Scout,  Colonel  William 
Frederick  Cody,  with  his  only  legitimate  successor,  a  man 
who  courted  prairie  dangers  when  a  boy,  whose  metal 
was  tempered  with  the  trying  hardships  that  beset  a  primi- 
tive West,  whose  whole  life  has  runged  the  ladder  of 
Indian  warfare,  adventure,  scouting,  border  fights,  and 
the  early  settlement  of  one  of  our  finest  Western  States — 
Major  Gordon  W.  Lillie,  "Pawnee  Bill." 

[7] 


The  lives  of  both  these  history  makers  are  threaded 
with  action  of  fact.  I  have  eliminated  from  these  pages 
every  detail  that  smacks  of  tinseled  theatrics.  Buffalo 
Bill  is  one  of  the  gentlest  of  men,  warm  hearted, 
kindly  and  generous.  He  is  not  demonstrative,  nor  does 
he  enthuse,  he  is  not  impressionistic,  but  at  all  times  he  is 
observant  of  the  slightest  good  in  others.  He  notes  every 
turn  and  twist  of  character,  he  is  a  student  of  human 
nature  and  a  good  one.  He  is  a  man  that  rewards  friend 
and  foe  in  a  befitting  manner. 

I  hero-worshiped  Buffalo  Bill  when  a  child,  adored  him 
in  youth,  and  now  in  manhood  my  fondest  kid  dreams 
have  become  crystallized  in  fact  by  the  pleasure  and  honor 
of  meeting  him,  knowing  him  and  valuing  his  good  friend- 
ship. I  want  every  boy-man  and  every  man-boy  in  the 
world  to  know  Buffalo  Bill  and  Pawnee  Bill  as  I  know 
them,  I  want  to  poise  these  two  greatest  of  our  living 
frontiersmen  as  an  example  for  the  emulation  of  young 
and  old  America — that  those  whose  trail  in  life  is  cobbled 
with  the  sharp-edged  stones  of  adversity  may  take  a  fresh 
grip  on  determination  and  reach  their  goal  of  happiness, 
every  man's  heritage. 

In  this  volume  I  aim  at  nothing  more  than  giving  to 
their  million  friends  a  simple,  accurate  and  fictionless 
resume  of  the  two  greatest  and  most  noted  living  plains- 
men that  America  ever  had  occasion  to  cherish — the 
Honorable  William  F.  Cody,  "Buffalo  Bill,"  and  Major 
Gordon  W.  Lillie,  "Pawnee  Bill." 

FRANK  WINCH 

New  York,  March  6,  1911. 
[8] 


BUFFALO B!L1| 
FAREWELI: 


TO  THE  PUBLIC: 

AFTER  MANY  YEARS  of  almost  constant 
devotion  to  my  calling,  I  have  determined  to 


retire  from  active  service  at  the  expiration  of  a 
final  and  complete  tour  of  the  American  continent. 
THEREFORE,  following  a  series  of  "Farewell  Exhibi- 
tions" whichl  hope  to  give  in  1911  and  1912,1  shall  per- 
manently abandon  the  arena,  and  seek  to  enjoy  some  of  the 
fruits  of  my  labors,  which  I  feel  that  I  have  well  earned 
during  a  long  life  of  activity  on  the  frontier,  in  the  field 
during  the  Civil  and  Indian  Wars,  and  as  a  provider  of  the 
r.         I    most  approved  drama  of  our  National  History. 

L-  1          IT  IS,  however,  my  earnest  desire  to  once  more  salute  from 
_UH    *he  saddle  my  millions  of  friends  and  patrons,  and  I  take  this  — <'J 

opportunity  to  emphatically  state  that  this  will  be  my 
LAST,  SOLE  AND  ONLY  PROFESSIONAL  APPEARANCE 
in  the  cities  and  towns  nominated  in  the  present  itinerary,  as  it  is-  my 
purpose  to  leave  the  active  manag 
hibition,  which  I  have  created,  in  tl 
Lillie  (Pawnee  Bill),  and  his  associates, 

prise  on  the  same  magnificent  scale  and  true  fidelity  that  1  have  always 
tried  to  maintain,  but  without  my  perspnal  presence  in  the  saddle. 

AND  NOW  that  I  have  reached  this  unalterable  conclusion,  I  want 
to  thank  my  numerous  friends  and  the  public  for  the  full  measure  of 
success  and  applause  that  they  have  bestowed  upon  me,  and  I 
know  of  no  honor  that  I  shall  cherish  more  than  their  good 
wishes,  while  the  silent  years  are  lurking  in  ambush  for  "The 
OIU  Scout,"  and  at  the  conclusion  of  each  and  every  perform- 
ance I  shall  bid  my  numerous  friends  a  fond  farewell. 
Yours,  always  sincerely, 


CHAPTER  I. 
BOYHOOD  DAYS  OF  BUFFALO  BILL. 

OTHER,   I've  just   killed   my   first   Indian," 
gleefully     shouted     a     bright-faced,     rosy- 
cheeked  lad  of  eleven,  with  eyes  glistening 
as  they  fondly  ranged  over  the  rifle  he  car- 
ried.    Putting  the  gun  away,  the  youngster 
ran   to   his   mother,    kissed    her   and    took   both   hands 
in  his. 

"It  was  pretty  exciting,  too,  mother,"  the  lad  continued. 
"Willie,  you  must  be  careful." 

It  wasn't  that  Mrs.  Cody  didn't  exactly  approve  of 
Indian  killing,  for  in  1857  the  redskins  were  recklessly 
massacring  any  and  all  the  whites  they  chanced  upon, 
but  she  feared  for  a  lad  of  such  tender  age  going  into  the 
open  and  risking  his  own  precious  life — made  more 
so  at  this  time,  for  youth  that  he  was,  Willie  Cody  was 
the  head  of  the  family  and  its  sole  male  protector. 

[9] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

This  then  is  our  first  introduction  to  William  Frederick 
Cody — later  on  Colonel — the  Honorable — and  as  he  is 
known  in  every  civilized  country  on  earth — "Buffalo  Bill." 
Isaac  and  Mary  Cody,  his  parents,  pioneers  of  Iowa,  lived 
near  the  town  of  Le^Clair,  on  the  comfortable  Scott  Farm, 
Scott  County,  Iowa.  It  was  here  on  the  morning  of 
February  26,  1846,  that  Cody  was  born.  There  were 
seven  children,  Martha,  Julia,  Eliza,  Helen,  May,  Samuel 
and  William.  The  latter  was  the  fourth  child.  His  first 
few  years  were  spent  in  the  ordinary  life  of  most  robust 
farmers'  children.  At  a  very  early  age  Billy  Cody  became 
an  adept  at  boating,  fishing,  shooting  and  in  the  art  of 
horsemanship. 

In  1849  Isaac  Cody  operated  a  stage  line  between  Chi- 
cago and  Davenport,  la.,  there  being  no  railroads  at  that 
time.  His  business  was  prosperous,  but  like  many  others 
he  listened  to  the  call  of  the  Far  W^est.  California  was 
then  in  the  throes  of  its  gold  fever  craze.  The  elder  Cody 
made  up  his  mind,  turned  his  property  into  cash,  and 
shortly  after  with  the  entire  family  safely  stored  away  in 
wagons,  joined  one  of  the  numerous  cross-continent  cara- 
vans. 

Proceeding  but  a  few  miles,  they  met  returning  strag- 
[10] 


CODY  IN  CONSTANT  DEVILTRY 

glers  from  the  Pacific  Coast  Eldorado.  Tales  of  hardships 
were  not  infrequently  heard.  Among  the  party  were 
friends  of  Cody  who  endeavored  to  discourage  him  from 
the  perilous  and,  as  they  found  it,  fruitless  trip  across 
the  country.  Dreams  of  golden  fortunes  vanished  from 
the  newly  organized  prospectors,  most  of  whom  returned 
home. 

The  Cody  family  moved  along,  however,  and  finally 
located  at  Walnut  Grove  Farm  in  Scott  County.  Bill 
Cody  was  sent  to  school.  While  his  merry  nature  was 
the  life  of  his  class,  it  also  proved  too  trying  a  task  for 
the  teacher.  The  lad  was  in  constant  deviltry,  first  one 
thing  and  then  another,  until  one  day,  after  being  attacked 
and  badly  whipped  by  a  boy  much  older  and  stronger  than 
the  little  fellow,  Cody  made  up  his  mind  for  revenge. 
His  chance  came  soon  after.  The  bully  attacked  him 
again.  Cody  retaliated  *and  thrashed  the  coward  in  good 
school-boy  fashion.  With  loud  cries  that  he  was  being 
murdered,  the  big  boy  ran  to  the  teacher  for  help.  Cody 
was  dismissed,  and  afterwards  offered  reinstatement,  but 
he  was  too  full  of  animal  spirits,  he  loved  out-doors  too 
well,  his  traps,  gun,  horse  and  the  woods  were  his  only 
curriculum  of  study. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Isaac  Cody  became  prominent  as  a  farmer  and  politician. 
He  was  elected  Justice  of  the  Peace  and  frequently 
stumped  the  county  on  behalf  of  the  Whigs.  It  was  dur- 
ing a  convention  that  he  harangued  an  interested  crowd 
at  a  cross-road  tavern  called  "Sherman's,"  that  the  first 
disaster  entered  his  life,  one  that  was  to  have  portentous 
weight  in  the  future,  one  that  spun  the  cycle  of  events 
sadly  and  swiftly  for  his  devoted  family. 

It  was  on  that  day  that  William  and  Samuel,  the  older 
brother,  had  gone  for  a  horseback  ride;  Sam,  who  was 
then  fourteen  years  old  was  a  remarkably  good  horseman. 
His  pony,  a  wild  and  unruly  little  creature,  suddenly 
plunged.  "Look  out  for  him,  Sam!"  Billy  cried. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  Sam  answered.  "Pretty  near  got 
me  then,  didn't  you,  pony?"  he  said,  scolding  his  horse. 

Without  a  second's  warning  the  animal  plunged  again, 
and  when  standing  on  its  hind  feet  reared  backward,  fell 
to  the  ground,  the  unfortunate  Sam  was  pinioned  be- 
neath. The  lad  lived  but  a  few  hours. 

Crushed  by  the  loss  of  her  son,  Mrs.  Cody  could  not 
remain  where  painful  memories  of  the  sad  accident  were 
constantly  freshened  to  her  mind.  The  family  moved 
westward — this  time  heading  for  Weston,  Platte  County, 

[12] 


PLAYING  WITH  INDIANS 

Missouri,  where  a  brother  of  Isaac  Cody  was  living.  It 
was  the  father's  intention  to  eventually  reach  Kansas. 

For  a  year  or  so  things  moved  quietly.  The  father 
engaged  in  trading  with  the  Indians,  earning  their  re- 
spect and  friendship,  likewise  that  of  the  settlers.  Will 
Cody  spent  most  of  his  time  playing  with  the  Kickapoo 
Indian  boys,  learning  their  language,  how  to  handle  the 
bow  and  arrow,  and  in  many  ways  studying  their  traits 
and  habits. 

In  1854  a  bill  called  "The  Enabling  Act  of  Kansas," 
was  passed.  Thousands  of  homeseekers  flocked  to  the 
territory.  Many  came  from  the  adjoining  States,  includ- 
ing numbers  of  Missourians. 

The  country  was  being  racked  with  the  slavery  ques- 
tion. Most  of  the  Missourians,  as  was  his  brother  Elija, 
were  in  favor  of  negro  bondage.  Frequent  meetings  were 
held  and  speeches  intended  to  inflame  pro-slavery  sup- 
port were  heard  on  all  sides. 

Isaac  Cody  maintained  discreet  silence,  but  his  ability 
as  an  orator  led  others  to  draw  him  from  seclusion,  little 
thinking  of  the  calamity  that  was  to  follow.  From  the 
North  and  South  came  the  ominous  rumbles  of  battle  talk, 
the  pro-  and  anti-slavery  men  in  all  sections  busied  them- 

[13] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

selves  in  proselyting  to  one  banner  or  the  oth'er.  Weston, 
the  little  prairie  village,  issued  a  call  for  a  gigantic  mass 
meeting.  Speakers  from  near-by  settlements  were  invited 
to  strengthen  the  cause  by  an  expression  of  their  views.. 
The  elder  Cody  was  prevailed  upon  to  talk. 

Billy  accompanied  his  father  to  the  meeting  place.  It 
was  held  in  the  open,  a  huge  box  doing  service  as  a 
rostrum,  and  on  all  sides  a  hundred  or  so  drink-crazed 
slavery  fanatics  had  gathered  to  hear  Isaac  Cody's  de- 
nunciation of  pro-slavery.  His  appearance  was  greeted 
with  cheers,  then  as  he  mounted  the  box  a  silence  spread, 
the  men  listened  eagerly. 

"Gentlemen  and  fellow  citizens,"  began  Cody  in  clear, 
determined  voice,  "I  accept  your  invitation  to  speak — it  is 
against  my  will.  My  views  are  not  in  accord  with  the 
rest  of  this  assembly.  The  question  before  us  to-day  is: 
Shall  the  Territory  of  Kansas  be  a  free  or  slave  State? 
The  question  of  slavery  is  a  broad  one ;  your  motive  in  call- 
ing upon  me  is  to  have  me  express  my  sentiments  in 
regard  to  the  introduction  of  slavery  in  Kansas.  I  will 
gratify  your  wish ;  I  am  one  of  the  pioneers  of  Iowa,  gen- 
tlemen ;  I  voted  that  it  should  be  a  white  State." 

This   unexpected  statement  came  like  a  thunderbolt, 

[14] 


CODY  PROTECTS  His  FATHER 

"Down  with  him/'  yelled  an  infuriated  wretch,  brandish- 
ing a  pistol. 

"Hear  him  out!"  shouted  others;  and  when  quiet  was 
restored,  Cody  continued:  "I  say  to  you  now,  and  say  it 
emphatically,  that  I  propose  to  exert  all  my  power 
in  making  Kansas  the  same  kind  of  a  State  as 
Iowa." 

Angry  murmurs  and  subdued  threats  swept  over  the 
crowd.  Bill  Cody,  young  as  he  was,  scented  danger,  and 
edged  closer  to  his  father,  keeping  an  eye  on  a  wicked- 
looking  gangster  who  was  fingering  his  revolver. 

"These  are  my  sentiments,  gentlemen,"  Cody  continued, 
"and  let  me  tell  you "  But  the  sentence  was  never  fin- 
ished. The  mob  was  worked  to  a  fever  heat  of  frenzy; 
it  hooted  and  hissed. 

"Get  down  from  that  box !" 

"Traitor!" 

"Kill  him!    Kill  him!" 

The  elder  Cody  was  in  the  act  of  continuing  his  speech 
when  a  skulking  coward  sneaked  up  behind,  dealt  the 
guarding  youngster  a  terrible  blow  on  the  head,  jumped 
to  the  box  and  sank  his  bowie  knife  to  its  hilt  in  Isaac 
Cody's  back. 

[15] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Instantly  pandemonium  reigned ;  the  assassin  sprang  at 
the  prostrate  body  as  it  rolled  to  the  ground. 

"Men,  this  is  not  fair  play,"  exclaimed  Billy  Cody. 
"Give  father  a  chance." 

The  better  element  in  the  crowd  overpowered  the  mur- 
derer. Realizing  the  effect  of  this  lawlessness  in  the  blood- 
stained body  of  heroic  Isaac  Cody  as  it  lay  on  the  ground, 
most  of  the  mob  quickly  dispersed.  Helping  hands  car- 
ried the  unconscious  man  to  his  home.  For  weeks  he 
hovered  between  life  and  death,  and  for  weeks  the  family 
was  kept  in  constant  terror  by  the  frequent  raids  of  a 
blood-thirsty  gang,  who,  on  hearing  that  he  was  still  alive, 
demanded  Cody's  life. 

One  evening  a  month  or  so  after  the  stabbing,  when 
Mr.  Cody  had  convalesced  sufficiently  to  sit  up, 
a  party  of  horsemen  drew  rein  at  the  door.  Billy 
had  seen  them  approach,  and  gave  the  warning, 
Mrs.  Cody  hastily  hid  the  sick  man  in  an  upper 
room. 

"Halloo,  there !  Open  that  door !"  came  the  shouts  from 
the  crowd. 

Mrs.  Cody  opened  the  window. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  exclaimed. 
[16] 


TEXAS  JACK— WILD  BILI^BUFFALO  BILL. 
As  They  Appeared  in  Their  Younger  Days. 


"GET  READY— LOAD  GUNS" 

"We  are  after  that  abolitionist  husband  of  yours,"  an- 
swered one  of  the  crowd. 

"He  is  not  in  this  house,"  Mrs.  Cody  replied,  with 
brave  voice. 

"That's  a  lie !  We  know  that  he's  here,  and  we're  bound 
to  have  him,"  said  the  spokesman,  advancing  with  his 
crowd. 

"Stop,  or  you  will  all  be  killed;  this  house  is  full  of 
armed  men."  She  withdrew  from  the  window  for  a  min- 
ute, and  hurriedly  instructed  the  herder  to  call  aloud  cer- 
tain names,  any  that  he  might  think  of,  just  as  if  the 
house  was  full  of  men  to  whom  he  was  giving  orders. 
He  followed  the  directions  to  the  very  letter;  the  crowd 
outside  heard  him,  and  thought  that  there  was  really 
quite  a  force  of  men  in  the  house.  While  this  was  going 
on,  Mrs.  Cody  opened  the  window  and  said: 

"You  had  better  go  away — the  men  will  surely  fire  on 
you." 

At  this  point  the  herder,  Billy  Cody,  and  his  sisters 
commenced  stamping  on  the  floor,  imitating  a  squad  of 
soldiers  marching  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  the 
herder  issued  orders  in  a  loud  voice  to  his  imaginary  force 
of  men: 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Get  ready,  load  guns,  aim " 

The  stratagem,  was  successful;  the  villains,  all  except 
the  man  who  stabbed  Cody,  fled.  This  fellow  approached 
the  house  steps.  Bill  Cody,  grabbing  a  rifle,  sprang  to 
the  window,  leveled  at  the  ruffian.  "Stop!"  exclaimed 
Cody.  "Not  another  step!  And  if  father  dies  I  will 
kill  you!" 


18] 


CHAPTER  II. 
SHOOTS  FIRST  INDIAN. 

Y  NO  means  had  the  turbulent  days  come  to 
an  end  for  the  Codys.  The  pro-slavery  men 
kept  up  a  persistent  persecution  of  Isaac 
Cody,  whose  recovery  was  slow  and  never 
complete. 

In  the  Spring  of  1857  he  succumbed  to  the  wound,  a 
martyr  for  the  cause  of  Kansas  in  an  effort  to  keep  it 
unsullied  with  the  blackness  of  slavery.  The  land  of 
his  adoption  and  where  his  son  in  after  years  was  to  carve 
glory  from  hardships  became  his  last  resting  place. 
Isaac  Cody's  remains  now  rest  at  Pilot  Knob, 
which  overlooks  the  city  of  Leavenworth.  Friend  and  foe 
granted  him  in  death  the  tributes  of  respect  he  merited  as 
an  upright,  generous,  kindly  and  just  man. 

Some  weeks  after  this,  a  youngster  not  twelve  years 
old  walked  in  to  an  office  in  Leavenworth. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"I  want  to  see  the  boss,"  Billy  Cody  said. 

"I'm  he/'  replied  a  Mr.  Majors  of  the  firm  of  Russel, 
Majors  and  Wadell,  who  were  overland  freighters  and 
contractors.  "What  do  you  want?" 

"Work." 

"What  can  a  boy  of  your  age  do?"  asked  Majors 
kindly. 

"I  can  ride,  shoot  and  herd  cattle,"  said  Cody.  "I'm 
the  head  of  the  family  now  and  will  do  anything  honest 
that  pays  the  best  money,  so  that  I  can  take  care  of  my 
mother  and  sisters." 

"What's  your  name,  my  boy?" 

"Billy  Cody." 

Mr.  Majors  looked  at  the  handsome,  manly  youngster 
for  a  second;  he  had  known  his  father  well. 

"I  would  like  to  do  something  for  you,  but  our  work  is 
too  hard  for  such  a  lad." 

"You  pay  man's  wages  for  man's  work,  don't  you?" 
asked  Bill.  "Give  me  a  chance ;  I  want  nothing  but  what 
I  can  earn." 

Will  was  employed  as  extra  boy  on  a  freight  caravan. 

The  die  was  cast ;  unknowingly  to  boy  and  man  he  was 
launched  on  a  career  that  meant  more  for  civilization  than 

[20] 


GOOD-BYE,  MOTHER 

any  would  have  ventured  to  guess.  Thrown  on  his  own 
resources  when  most  lads  think  only  of  marbles  or  top 
spinning,  with  the  added  duty  of  earning  a  support  for 
mother  and  sisters.  Cody,  whose  fame  was  subsequently 
to  penetrate  the  farthermost  corners  of  the  world,  began 
a  life  that  for  half  a  century  afterward  was  beset  with 
every  danger  and  peril  that  human  could  encounter  and 
survive.  He  keystoned  the  arch  of  reclamation  that  gave 
to  our  country  its  best,  most  fertile  and  richest  section 
of  the  great  unknown  West. 

In  a  twinkling  Billy  had  hurried  home,  told  his  mother 
and  sisters  of  his  good  fortune,  packed  away  a  few  trin- 
kets, a  small  Bible,  fondly  kissed  his  sweet  little  mother 
and  the  youngsters  good-bye,  and  rushed  back  to  report 
for  duty. 

Quick  orders  had  been  received  at  the  office  to  dispatch 
a  herd  of  cattle  to  General  Albert  Sidney  Johnson,  who 
was  enroute  across  the  plains,  headed  for  Salt  Lake  to 
fight  the  Mormons. 

Frank  and  Bill  McCarthy  had  charge  of  the  supply 
train  and  herd  of  cattle ;  young  Cody  was  assigned  as  ex- 
tra boy,  his  duties  carrying  him  from  one  wagon  to  the 
other  with  messages  from  the  different  bosses. 

[21] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

The-  "bullwhackers,"  in  other  words  drivers  and  the 
wagon  masters,  took  a  great  fancy  to  young  Cody.  They 
liked  his  quiet  and  manly  ways,  his  pluck  in  undertaking 
such  hard  work. 

The  first  part  of  the  journey  was  uneventful.  Cody 
welcomed  an  order,  as  it  gave  him  a  chance  to  dash  back 
and  forward  on  a  spirited  pony.  His  riding  won  the 
praise  of  everyone  on  the  train.  So  far  all  had  been 
serene.  He  was  homesick  at  times  for  the  loving  ones 
left  behind.  He  grew  tired,  as  his  young  body  was  not 
hardened  to  the  tiresome  travel;  but  always  before  him 
shone  the  beacon  of  success,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  win 
out,  and  how  well  he  succeeded  subsequent  events  speak 
for  themselves. 

Nothing  occurred  to  interrupt  the  journey  until  the 
caravan  reached  Plum  Creek  on  the  South  Platte  River, 
about  thirty-five  miles  west  of  Old  Fort  Kearney.  The 
train  had  made  its  morning  drive  and  halted  for  dinner. 
Three  men  were  placed  on  guard  as  outpost,  and  nearly 
all  the  balance,  tired  with  the  arduous  trip,  spread  them- 
selves under  the  mess  wagon  for  a  short  sleep. 

Will  Cody  was  repairing  a  broken  saddle  strap.  In  the 
far  distance  he  thought  he  espied  a  cloud  of  dust  or  rain. 

[22] 


THREE  GUARDS  SHOT 

"Going  to  storm,  ain't  it  ?"  he  asked  one  of  the  drivers. 
"Look  over  there." 

"Storm  hell  1"  shouted  the  other,  after  a  glance.  "Them's 
Indians." 

Cody  gave  a  shout  of  warning,  and  a  second  later  as 
the  men  hustled  from  a  soft  sleep,  grabbed  their  guns  and 
prepared  for  action. 

A  volley  of  shots  came  from  the  left,  the  air  rang  with 
demoniac  war  whoops  in  a  flash,  the  cattle  had  stampeded 
and  were  scurrying  in  all  directions.  The  three  guards 
were  shot  down,  and  the  Indians  by  hundreds  came  charg- 
ing at  the  brave  little  body  of  men  huddled  behind  the 
wagons. 

This  was  Cody's  first  sight  of  Indians  on  murder  bent. 
He  had  heard  of  them,  their  bloodthirsty  yells,  their  poi- 
soned arrows,  their  naked,  highly-colored,  stained  bodies ; 
their  fantastic-colored  headgear.  He  was  flushed  with 
excitement,  quietly  pulling  the  gun  trigger  he  raised  just 
over  the  wagon  side. 

"Get  down  there,  boy !"  yelled  the  man  beside  him,  as  a 
bullet  whistled  over  the  youngster's  head. 

"Them  red  devils  can  shoot  like  mad!" 

[23] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Cody  crouched  beside  the  wagon  master  and  waited  for 
orders  from  the  boss.  On  they  came,  the  Indians  mounted 
on  snorting,  hard-breathing  ponies,  war-whooping  to  the 
accompanying  horse-hoof  tattoo  as  they  raced  over  the 
hard,  brown,  sunburnt  prairies. 

The  wagon  men  were  all  well  armed  with  heavy  Colt 
revolvers  and  Mississippi  yaegers,  a  powerful  gun  carry- 
ing a  bullet  and  two  buckshot. 

"Steady,  boys!"  Frank  McCarthy  sang  out  coolly. 
"Take  good  aim,  pick  your  man.  Fire!" 

The  guns  thundered,  and  through  powder  flash  and 
smoke  the  leader  saw  the  effect  of  the  fire.  The  volley 
checked  the  rush  for  a  moment. 

"Boys,"  McCarthy  yelled,  "load  up  as  you  run  and 
make  a  break  for  that  slough  yonder ;  we  can  use  its  bank 
for  a  breastwork." 

On  double-quick  the  men  dashed  for  cover,  reached  it 
in  safety,  carrying  along  one  of  their  number  who  had 
been  wounded.  The  bank  afforded  excellent  protection, 
but  McCarthy  was  worried. 

"The  longer  we  stay  here,"  he  said,  "the  worse  we'll  be 
coraUed ;  we  must  try  to  make  our  way  back  to  Fort  Ke.ar- 

[24] 


FOLLOWED  BY  INDIANS 

ney  by  wading  the  river,  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the 
bank." 

Slowly  and  cautiously  the  little  band  of  men  edged  their 
way  down  the  stream,  in  places  it  was  so  deep  that  they 
had  to  swim;  a  raft  was  built  for  the  wounded  herder. 

The  Indians  followed  at  a  safe  distance,  occasionally 
sending  along  a  bothersome  shot  or  poisoned  arrow. 
Strong  men  as  they  were,  the  strain  and  labor  began  to 
tell  on  the  wagon  drivers.  It  was  a  case  of  every  man 
for  himself ;  little  attention  had  been  paid  to  young  Cody, 
who  was  drenched  to  the  skin. 

Surging  with  excitement,  his  brain  and  body  not  used 
to  such  a  gruelling  task,  was  deadly  fatigued.  The 
youngster  began  to  lag  behind. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  that  night — the  moon  at  times 
peeped  through  tree  tops  fringing  the  river  bank.  All 
was  quiet  save  the  gurgling  water  as  the  stream  swirled 
around  the  tired  legs  of  the  wagon  men.  They  were  mov- 
ing forward  very  slowly. 

Cody  crept  to  the  bank  exhausted.  He  crawled  beneath 
a  big  bowlder  for  a  moment's  rest,  his  body  numbed,  his 
eyes  drowsy;  the  youngster's  head  was  soon  nodding  its 
willingness  to  toss  off  to  slumber. 

[25] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

The  others  of  the  party  continued  on.  All  was  silence. 
Suddenly  a  twig  snapped  on  the  bank's  edge  overhead. 
Cody  was  alert  in  a  second.  He  listened.  Then  came  the 
sound  of  dry  grass  rustling  as  if  an  animal  were  stealthily 
moving.  Instinctively  the  boy  scented  danger.  He  cau- 
tiously peered  around  the  bowlder's  edge,  and  at  the  same 
instant  the  moon  rays  fell  aslant  the  river  bank's  crest. 

There,  peering  down  the  stream,  lying  prostrate,  poising 
his  rifle  for  a  deadly  shot,  was  an  Indian  with  head  plumed 
in  Chieftain's  feathers.  The  redskin's  rifle  trigger  clicked 
and  at  the  same  instant  Cody  aimed. 

Bang! — a  blinding  flash,  a  puff  of  smoke,  and  the  In- 
dian came  tumbling  down  to  the  water's  edge,  dead. 

The  shot  was  a  warning  for  the  men  ahead;  a  second 
later  the  Indians,  who  had  wriggled  themselves  to  the 
river  bank  top,  opened  fire.  Cody's  shot  had  drawn  their 
attention,  and,  thinking  that  the  entire  body  of  whites 
were  close  at  hand,  the  redskins  fusilladed  the  direction 
from  where  Cody's  shot  came.  He  had  dodged  back 
behind  the  bowlder,  and  lay  there  uninjured  waiting  for 
another  chance. 

Led  on  by  McCarthy,  the  men  soon  routed  the  Indians, 
Cody  scrambling  over  the  bank,  joined  in  the  fight  and 

[26] 


BILLY,  YOU'RE  A  DANDY 

had  his  first  taste  of  Indian  warfare.  The  little  heroic 
band  gathered  around  two  of  its  men  that  had  fallen  in 
the  skirmish. 

"Men,  that  first  shot  was  the  warning  that  saved  all  our 
lives,"  exclaimed  Frank  McCarthy,  gazing. at  the  Indian 
Cody  shot.  "Who  fired  it?" 

"I  did,"  modestly  spoke  up  young  Cody. 

"By  thunder,  Billy,  you're  a  dandy!"  and  the  wagon 
master  was  the  first  to  grasp  his  hand.  "We  owe  our 
lives  to  you." 

The  men  showered  their  gratitude  and  congratulations 
on  the  blushing  youngster. 

"Just  doing  my  duty,"  Bill  remarked.  "Mr.  Majors 
told  me  that  I  would  have  to  do  a  man's  work  to  get  a 
man's  pay,  and  I'm  trying  to  do  it." 


[27] 


CHAPTER  III. 
As  A  PONY  EXPRESS  RIDER. 

OR  an  hour  or  so  the  party  waited;  making 
sure  that  the  Indians  had  abandoned  their 
attack,  they  proceeded  cautiously  to  Kear- 
ney, where  Russel,  Majors  and  Wadell  had 
an  agent.    McCarthy  reported  the  battle.   A 
company  of  troops  was  sent  out  as  escort.     The  bodies 
of  the  slain  herders  were  found  scalped  and  literally  cut 
to  pieces,  the  remains  were  buried  on  the  plains. 

A  few  of  the  stampeded  cattle  were  caught,  the  expedi- 
tion was  a  failure,  and  young  Cody  returned  home,  where 
the  news  of  his  Indian  killing  had  preceded  him.  He  was 
warmly  congratulated  by  Mr.  Majors. 

Billy  Cody  was  not  slated  for  a  life  of  inactivity.  He 
joined  another  outfit  with  supplies  for  General  Johnson's 
army.  This  fared  with  but  little  success.  The  Danites 

[29] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

captured  the  supplies,  and  the  men  were  again  sent  home. 
It  was  during  this  trip,  however,  that  Cody  met  one  of 
the  greatest  of  frontiersmen — James  B.  Hickock — who 
won  fame  as  a  man  quick  on  the  trigger,  earning  the  sobri- 
quet of  "Wild  Bill."  He  took  a  great  fancy  to  young 
Cody,  which  ripened  into  the  warmest  of  friendship,  con- 
tinuing throughout  the  life  of  Wild  Bill. 

Cody  spent  a  year  or  so  trapping,  was  captured  by  In- 
dians, had  a  marvelous  escape,  encountered  a  band  of 
horse  thieves,  killed  one,  and  led  an  expedition  which 
captured  the  rest.  For  weeks  shortly  after  this  he  had  a 
leg  broken  and  lay  in  a  cave  while  a  boon  friend  and 
chum  rode  and  walked  a  hundred  miles  for  medical  aid. 

Then  came  the  agitation  for  a  mail  service  between  the 
East  and  West  that  was  faster  than  the  then  present-day 
mode  of  transporting  letters.  The  Pony  Express  was  cre- 
ated. By  relaying  horse  and  rider  with  others  at  certain 
points  along  the  route,  mail  could  be  sent  to  California  in 
about  three  weeks.  Letters  were  written  on  the  finest 
tissue  paper  and  were  carried  at  the  rate  of  five  to  eight 
dollars  an  ounce.  As  the  experiment  became  a  success, 
valuable  parcels  were  dispatched.  It  took  but  little  time 
for  the  outlaws  infesting  the  Western  deserts  to  realize 

[30] 


MEETS  OLD  FRIEND 

that  robbery  of  the  express  pouch  would  result  to  their 
profit.  In  consequence  a  new  terror  was  added  to  that 
which  already  menaced  the  riders,  in  the  shape  of  wild 
animals  and  marauding  Indians. 

The  riders  received  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  a  month  for  their  perilous  work.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  was  the  daily  assignment  that  these 
intrepid  men  must  coyer. 

On  the  3rd  of  April,  1860,  the  first  Pony  Express  rider 
with  pouch  strapped  to  his  back  bounded  away  on  the 
journey  that  led  from  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  to  Sacramento,  Cal. 

Cody,  now  a  lad  of  fourteen,  had  gone  out  West  again. 
He  intended  to  try  mining.  At  Julesberg  he  met  the 
agent  of  Russel,  Majors  and  Wadell,  who  owned  the  Pony 
Express  line. 

"Hello,  Billy,"  said  Mr.  Christman,  who  was  formerly 
in  the  same  wagon  train  with  Cody,  as  the  latter  ran  into 
him  accidentally.  The  meeting  was  a  cordial  one.  The 
agent  was  then  buying  ponies  and  equipment  to  get  his 
section  of  the  line  in  readiness. 

"Sorry  you  aren't  older,  Billy,"  Christman  said.  'Td 
like  to  give  you  a  job  as  Pony  Express  rider." 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Then  the  agent  explained  the  new  venture,  its  dangers 
and  the  pay  the  riders  would  receive. 

"A  hundred  and  twenty-five  a  month,"  mused  the  four- 
teen-year-old plainsman,  thinking  of  the  mothers  and  sis- 
ters at  home.  "Say,  Mr.  Christman,  give  me  a  chance  at 
that  job,  will  you?" 

"Can't  do  it,  Billy ;  the  work  is  too  hard  and  too  danger- 
ous; nerves  of  steel  and  a  quick  enough  eye  along  the 
pistol  barrel  don't  come  in  youngsters  of  your  age,  no 
matter  how  game  and  willing  you  are." 

In  a  twinkling  Cody's  revolver  flashed  from  its  holster ; 
a  cowboy  twenty  feet  away  was  striking  a  match  to  light 
his  pipe.  A  sharp  report,  and  the  astounded  cowboy 
gazed  at  the  stub  end  of  the  match  held  in  his  fingers,  the 
other  end  lay  on  the  ground. 

"My  nerves  are  as  good  as  my  eye — I  want  a  job  as  a 
rider,"  and  Cody  pleaded  his  case  to  such  good  effect  that 
he  was  promptly  engaged. 

For  three  months  the  lad  pounded  against  the  saddle, 
making  fifteen  miles  an  hour  every  day.  The  work  wore 
him  down;  at  times  he  thought  that  possibly  his  nerves 
were  made  of  iron  instead  of  steel,  but  his  will  was  in- 
domitable. 

[32] 


A  CHARACTERISTIC  POSE. 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  Permit  Me  to  Introduce  a  Congress 
of  the  Rough  Riders  of  the  World." 


"THROW  UP  YOUR  HANDS  !" 

The  folks  at  home  needed  the  money,  and  he  was  de- 
termined to  stick  it  out  as  long  as  he  could  keep  his  tired 
body  together  on  the  back  of  his  dashing  pony.  So  far 
he  had  been  decidedly  lucky  in  not  meeting  with  any 
trying  experiences  with  either  Indians  or  highwaymen, 
and  in  due  proportion  he  felt  deeply  chagrined.  He  craved 
for  just  a  little  excitement  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the 
continuous  pound,  pound,  pound  of  horse  hoofs  and  the 
scurrying  of  coyotes.  At  the  stables  he  even  twitted 
Christman  about  the  forewarned  dangers.  Wish  as  he 
might,  nothing  would  occur  to  give  the  lad  a  chance  to 
test  his  metal  against  real  trouble. 

One  day  Christman  called  Cody  to  the  office. 

"Be  careful  to-day,  Billy/'  he  said;  "we're  sending  a 
very  valuable  package  through — there  are  reports  of  the 
Halloway  gang  along  the  trail." 

"I'll  get  through  safely,"  Bill  replied,  leaped  to  the 
saddle  and  dashed  away. 

For  several  hours  nothing  untoward  occurred.  He 
was  speeding  along  the  narrow  trail  when,  just  as  he  was 
rounding  a  bend,  some  one  shouted : 

"Throw  up  your  hands!" 

[33] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Can't,"  Cody  replied.  "Horse  will  run  away."  He 
drew  rein.  "I  say,  Mister,  point  the  business  end  of  that 
gun  of  yours  away  from  my  head." 

Cody  was  decidedly  cool — here  was  a  predicament,  just 
what  he  had  hoped  for,  but  it  came  without  a  warning; 
then  he  remembered  that  Christman  told  him  to  get  his 
pouches  through. 

"Hurry  up,  throw  off  those  mail  bags,"  commanded  the 
outlaw  sternly. 

"These  ain't  mail  bags,"  Cody  fibbed,  sparring  for  time 
to  get  his  plan  of  action  working;  "just  some  old  papers 
I'm  taking  over  to  the  post." 

"Look  here,  boy,  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  throw 
'em  o-ff  quick  or  I'll  shoot !" 

Cody  knew  he  meant  business.  He  unbuckled  the  bags 
and  threw  them  over  the  horse's  head  at  the  robber's 
feet.  As  the  latter  stooped  to  pick  them  up,  Billy  rammed 
the  spurs  to  the  pony's  flanks,  the  animal  jumped  wildly, 
struck  the  outlaw  flush,  and  sent  him  sprawling  to  the 
ground. 

Cody's  gun  covered  the  thief  in  a  second. 

"Look  here,  Mister  Robber,  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you," 
[34] 


EXPRESS  RIDER  KILLED 

Billy  said  banteringly,  mocking  the  other,  "but  throw 
those  bags  up  here  quick,  or  I'll  shoot !" 

The  robber  lay  motionless.  Billy  dismounted,  ap- 
proached cautiously  and  saw  that  the  man  was  unconscious. 
He  had  been  struck  in  the  head  by  the  horse's  hoof.  A 
deep  gash  across  his  forehead  told  the  story.  After  dis- 
arming him,  Billy  replaced  the  mail  bags,  hid  the  outlaw's 
weapons  in  the  brush  near  by,  dragged  him  to  a  tree,  and, 
using  a  leather  rope,  tied  the  outlaw  fast;  then,  remount- 
ing, urged  the  pony  on  to  make  up  for  the  time  lost  in 
tete-a-teteing  with  the  robber. 

As  he  neared  the  next  station  where  he  was  to  be  re- 
lieved, Cody  saw  signs  that  foreboded  trouble.  The  door 
was  opened,  the  windows  shattered,  and,  lying  beside  the 
hitching  post,  gun  in  hand,  the  relief  rider  was  dead.  There 
was  no  one  to  take  the  bags  on  to  the  next  station.  It 
meant  a  serious  delay  on  the  one  side — an  eighty-five  mile 
ride  for  him  if  he  continued.  Cody  was  tired;  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  the  gritty  youngster  nosed  his 
pony  on  the  trail  for  Rocky  Ridge.  It  was  a  heart-break- 
ing task,  but  when  duty  called  Cody  did  not  know  the 
word  quit.  About  ten  miles  out  he  had  a  skirmish  with 
a  party  of  ten  or  fifteen  Indians;  bending  low  over  the 

[35] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

pony's  back  and  reaching  under  its  neck,  he  emptied  both 
revolvers  at  the  redskins;  they  gave  up  the  chase,  as  the 
boy's  pony  was  too  fleet  of  foot  and  the  bullets  had 
whizzed  too  near  their  heads. 

Arriving  at  the  post  he  changed  horses,  reported  the 
other  rider's  death,  and  half  an  hour  later  was  tearing 
along  the  path  homeward  bound. 

The  ride  was  eventless.  Approaching  finally  the  bend 
where  he  had  met  the  robber  the  day  before,  Billy,  pistol 
in  hand,  made  the  turn  cautiously.  The  man  was  still 
unconscious.  In  a  second  Cody  had  the  figure  strapped 
on  behind  him. 

It  was  dark  when  Cody  and  the  captive  outlaw  reached 
headquarters.  Christman  was  standing  out  front ;  he  was 
mad  through  and  through. 

"What  the  devil  kept  you  so  long?"  he  exclaimed. 
"This  won't  do.  You're  fired  and  fined  a  month's  pay." 

Billy  drew  rein,  dismounted,  and  let  the  outlaw  slip  to 
the  ground;  he  was  conscious  and  made  an  effort  to  es- 
cape, but  was  promptly  checked  by  Cody. 

"Who  in  thunder  is  that?"  shouted  Christman. 

"Don't  know  much  about  him ;  he  tried  to  hold  me  up," 
Cody  replied  quietly.  "Better  send  some  one  up  to  the 

[36] 


A  LIFE  JOB 

other  station,  someone  killed  the  agent.  I  took  his  bags 
right  through  to  Rocky  Ridge." 

Cody  started  to  lead  his  horse  to  the  corral. 

"Hold  on,  Billy."  Christman's  voice  had  softened.  "To 
Rocky  Ridge?  Why,  man  alive,  it's  a  three  hundred  and 
twenty-three  mile  trip,  and  you  made  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  darn  my  hide,  I  take  back  what  I  said;  you're 
not  fired — you've  got  a  life  job  and  a  twenty-five-dollar-a- 
month  raise  in  wages.  Here's  my  hand." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Then  Billy  fed  and  watered  his  horse,  shook  down 
some  hay  and  tumbled  off  to  sleep. 


[37! 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A  CIVIL  WAR  SPY. 


OUNG  man,  I  want  some  one  that  I  can  trust 
to  send  on  a  very  dangerous  and  important 
errand,"  said  General  O.  J.  Smith.  "You 
will  do." 

And  with  those  words  young  Cody,  now 
eighteen  years  old,  tall,  handsome,  with  a  frank,  boyish 
candor  in  every  feature,  assumed  one  of  the  most  arduous 
military  roles  ever  assigned  to  a  soldier. 

Many  events  had  transpired  since  those  narrated  in  the 
preceding  chapter.  Mrs.  Cody  had  passed  away.  Broken- 
hearted, he  gave  up  the  Pony  Express  riding.  The 
guns  of  Sumter  had  written  in  flame  their  ominous  mes- 
sage. Bill  Cody  decided  to  enlist.  He  was  recruited  in  the 
Seventh  Kansas  Regiment,  known  as  Jennison's  Jay- 
hawkers,  which  had  once  disbanded,  reorganized  and 
re-enlisted  as  veterans. 

[39] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

The  regiment  was  ordered  to  Tennessee,  reaching  there 
just  about  the  time  that  General  Sturgis  had  been  soundly 
whipped  by  the  forces  under  General  Forrest. 

"Report  for  duty  within  an  hour  if  you  are  satisfied  to 
take  the  big  risks  for  your  country." 

"You  mean,"  answered  Cody  quietly,  "that  you  wish  me 
to  go  as  a  spy  in  the  rebel  camp  ?" 

"Exactly ;  you  know  the  penalty  if  caught — you  will  be 
hung." 

"I  am  ready  to  obey  any  duty  assigned  to  me,  sir," 
replied  the  youngster. 

"I  am  sure,  Cody,"  said  General  Smith  kindly,  "that  if 
any  one  can  go  through  safely  you  will,  dodging  Indians 
on  the  plains  was  good  training  for  the  work  you  have 
in  hand,  which  demands  quick  intelligence  and  ceaseless 
vigilance.  Take  these  maps  to  your  quarters,  study  them 
carefully,  return  to-night  for  full  instructions." 

Saluting  the  officer,  Cody  wheeled  about,  his  bearing 
every  bit  the  soldier.  When  once  beneath  the  canvas  of 
his  tent,  his  whole  frame  relaxed. 

"A  spy,"  he  mused;  "by  thunder,  I  don't  mind  being 
shot,  but  I  hate  to  think  of  the  disgrace  of  being  hanged. 

[40] 


HALT!  A  SPY 

It's  important  work,  and  some  one  must  do  it.  I  will,  and 
succeed,  too." 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the  general's  tent  that 
evening,  Cody  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  skulking  in  the 
brush.  He  eyed  him  for  a  second,  then  quickly  throwing 
rifle  to  shoulder,  gave  the  command : 

"Halt!    Who  goes  there?" 

"Don't  shoot ;  I'm  wounded,"  came  the  reply. 

"Advance." 

A  limping  figure  emerged  from  the  bushes.  It  was 
dressed  in  Confederate  gray.  Cody  approached. 

"Good  God!"  he  exclaimed.  "Nat  Golden,  whom  I 
knew  when  I  was  on  the  freight  caravans." 

Golden  recognized  Cody  instantly. 

"Hello,  Bill  Cody ;  what  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"At  present  making  you  a  prisoner  of  war,"  Bill  an- 
swered. "Nat,  this  is  too  bad.  I  would  have  rather  cap- 
tured a  whole  regiment  than  you.  I  don't  like  to  take  you 
a  prisoner.  Why  in  thunder  did  you  enlist  on  the  other 
side?" 

"The  fortunes  of  war,  Billy,"  laughed  Nat.  "Friends 
shall  be  turned  against  friends,  and  brother  against 
brother.  You  wouldn't  have  had  me  a  prisoner  if  my 


THRILLING  LIVES 

rifle  hadn't  missed  fire,  that  wounded  stunt  was  only  a 
bluff ;  mighty  glad  my  gun  failed  me,  Bill,  for  I  wouldn't 
have  wanted  to  be  the  one  that  shot  you." 

"And  I  don't  want  to  see  you  strung  up,"  Bill  said ;  "so 
hand  me  over  those  papers  that  you  have  and  I  will  turn 
you  in  as  an  ordinary  prisoner." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  spy,  Billy?"  asked  Nat,  with  face 
paled. 

"I  know  it." 

"Well,"  Nat  replied,  "I've  risked  my  life  to  obtain  these 
papers,  but  they  will  be  taken  from  me  anyway;  so  I 
might  as  well  give  them  up  now  if  it  will  save  my  neck." 

Cody  called  the  guard,  turned  over  his  prisoner,  and 
presented  himself  to  the  commander.  As  usual,  he  thought 
quickly.  His  plan  was  original  and  daring. 

"General,  I  gathered  from  a  statement  dropped  by  a 
prisoner  that  I  just  captured  that  a  Confederate  spy  had 
succeeded  in  making  out  and  carrying  to  the  enemy  a 
complete  map  of  the  position  of  our  regiment,  together 
with  some  idea  of  the  projected  plan  of  campaign." 

"I  am  glad  to  get  this  information,"  replied  the  gen- 
eral. "I  will  change  my  position  so  that  the  enemy's  in- 

[42] 


WHO  GOES  THERE? 

formation  will  be  of  no  value  to  them.     When  will  you 
set  out?" 

"To-night,  sir.  I  have  a  Confederate  uniform  and  every- 
thing ready  for  an  early  start." 

"Going  to  change  your  colors,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,  for  the  time  being;  but  not  my  principles." 

"You  will  need  all  the  wit,  pluck,  nerve  and  caution  of 
which  you  are  possessed  to  come  through  this  ordeal 
safely.  Good-bye,  and  success  go  with  you,"  and  the  gen- 
eral grasped  the  young  man's  hand  in  hearty  manner. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  Cody  was  in  the  saddle, 
riding  toward  the  Confederate  lines.  At  dawn  he  sighted 
the  enemy's  outposts.  He  was  carefully  dressed  as  a 
Southern  officer.  With  a  reassuring  touch  of  the  papers 
in  his  pocket  that  he  had  taken  from  Nat  Golden,  he 
spurred  toward  the  sentry. 

"Halt!    Who  goes  there?" 

"Friend." 

"Dismount,  friend,  advance,  and  give  the  countersign." 

"Haven't  the  countersign,"  said  Cody,  dropping  from 
his  saddle,  "but  I  have  important  information  for  General 
Forrest ;  take  me  to  him  at  once." 

[43] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

When  Forrest  heard  the  report  he  ordered  Cody  brought 
before  him. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "what  can  I  do  for  you?" 
"You  sent  a  man  named  Nat  Golden  into  the  Union 
lines." 

"And  if  I  did,  what  then?" 

"He's  an  old  friend  of  mine;  he  tried  to  reach  the 
Union  camp  to  verify  some  information  that  he  had  re- 
ceived, but  before  he  started  he  left  certain  papers  with 
me  in  case  he  was  captured." 

"Was  he  captured?"  Forrest  asked. 

"Yes,  sir ;  but  as  I  happened  to  know  he  wasn't  hanged, 
for  these  weren't  on  him.  Golden  asked  me  to  bring 
these  to  you."  With  that  Cody  produced  the  maps  he  had 
taken  from  his  erstwhile  acquaintance. 

General  Forrest  knew  Golden's  handwriting,  the  docu- 
ments were  manifestly  genuine.  His  suspicion  was  not 
aroused. 

"These  are  important  papers,"  he  said.  "Do  you  know 
what  they  contain?" 

"Every  word ;  I  studied  them  carefully,  so  that  in  case 
[44] 


CODY  PLANS  ESCAPE 

they  were  destroyed  I  could  still  give  you  the  informa- 
tion." 

"Very  wise  thing  to  do;  are  you  a  soldier?" 
"I  have  not  joined  the  army.    This  uniform  belongs  to 
Golden.     I  wore  it  to  get  to  your  lines  easier.     I  know 
this  section  very  well — could  you  use  me  as  a  scout  ?" 
"What  is  your  name?" 

"Frederick  Williams,"  Cody  answered,  almost  telling 
the  truth. 

"Very  well ;  you  may  remain  in  camp,  I'll  send  for  you 
when  the  time  comes."  Forrest  called  an  orderly. 

""Make  this  young  man  comfortable  at  the  couriers' 
camp." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  second  day  after  saw  Cody  busy.  He  had  picked 
up  valuable  information,  had  drawn  maps,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  make  his  escape  at  the  first  opportunity.  For- 
rest had  not  as  yet  sent  for  him,  and  the  young  spy  re- 
alized that  his  only  mode  of  escape  lay  in  taking  leave 
without  orders,  the  which,  most  likely,  being  followed  by 
a  volley  of  sentries'  bullets. 

Cody  approached  the  General's  tent  and  saw  him  talking 

us] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

with  a  soldier.  He  could  not  see  the  other's  face.  Sud- 
denly he  recognized  the  voice. 

"Nat  Golden!"  he  muttered  under  his  breath,  turning 
abruptly  on  his  heel  and  making  for  his  quarters. 

"Here's  a  mess,"  Cody  thought,  "with  Golden  in  camp. 
I  can  see  where  the  Johnnies  will  have  a  hanging  party 
with  me  as  the  central  figure  of  entertainment,  and  that 
won't  do." 

Quietly  saddling  his  horse,  Cody  mounted  and  leisurely 
rode  toward  the  outpost,  his  gray  uniform  passed  him 
through  without  a  challenge.  He  had  gone  a  good  fifty 
yards  and  was  heading  for  a  stretch  of  timber;  suddenly 
the  dull  thudding  of  horse's  hoofs  caught  his  ear,  and  he 
turned  to  see  a  small  cavalcade  bearing  down  upon  him  at 
a  gallop. 

The  spurs  grated  his  horse's  flanks  as  he  dashed  for 
the  timber.  It  was  out  of  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire. 
He  ran  into  a  dozen  Confederate  cavalrymen  guarding  two 
Union  prisoners. 

"Men,  a  Union  spy  has  escaped!"  shouted  Cody,  dash- 
ing up  to  them.  "Scatter  at  once  and  head  him  off.  I'll 
look  after  your  prisoners." 

[46] 


I'M  THE  SPY 

Without  a  thought  of  questioning  his  command,  the 
cavalrymen  scurried  right  and  left  in  search  of  the  fugi- 
tive. 

"Come,"  said  Bill  in  a  whisper  to  the  Union  soldiers, 
"I'm  the  spy — there,"  cutting  the  ropes  that  bound  their 
wrists,  "now  ride  for  your  lives!" 

The  Confederates  soon  discovered  the  ruse  and  set 
after  the  fleeing  trio  in  mad  pursuit.  It  was  a  running 
battle,  bullets  snipped  the  trees,  Cody  turned,  taking  quick 
aim,  brought  the  leader  of  the  pursuers  to  the  ground ;  and 
then  gave  the  order  for  his  two  companions  to  separate. 
The  three  men  scattered  to  different  parts  of  the  wood. 

For  an  hour  or  so  the  young  spy  spurred  through  woods 
and  open  plains.  The  sound  of  pursuers  ceased,  and  Cody 
jogged  leisurely  along  the  old  country  road,  chuckling 
over  his  good  luck. 

Riding  up  to  a  farmhouse,  Bill  entered  and  asked  for 
food.  Seated  at  the  same  table  was  a  man  dressed  in 
Confederate  gray.  The  two  were  alone. 

"You  little  rascal,  what  are  you  doing  in  those  'sesesh' 
clothes  ?"  the  tall  man  inquired,  with  a  quiet  laugh.  Cody's 
first  thought  was  that  he  had  been  recognized.  In  an  in- 
stant his  pistol  flashed  in  view. 

[47] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"I  ask  the  same  question  of  you,  sir,"  he  bravely  re- 
plied. 

"Hush!  Sit  down;  put  that  shooting  iron  of  yours 
away  and  have  some  bread  and  milk."  It  was  "Wild  Bill," 
one  of  Cody's  staunchest  friends,  disguised  as  a  Confed- 
erate officer.  After  a  quick  luncheon,  the  two  strolled 
out. 

"Billy,"  Wild  Bill  said,  "I  am  mighty  glad  to  see  you. 
What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"Scouting  and  getting  information." 

"That's  exactly  what  I'm  doing.  Take  these  papers, 
Billy,  to  the  General;  tell  him  I'm  digging  up  too  much 
good  news  to  leave  the  Confederate  camp." 

"All  right.    When  will  I  see  you  again?" 

"You'll  hear  from  me  in  a  day  or  two." 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

True  to  his  word,  it  wasn't  long  before  Wild  Bill  and 
Cody  met,  but  in  a  manner  that  neither  had  counted  on. 
One  day  while  both  armies  were  drawn  up  in  skirmish 
line  near  Fort  Scott,  Kansas,  two  men  were  seen  rapidly 
leaving  the  Confederate  side,  dashing  toward  the  boys 
in  blue.  Instantly  volleys  were  discharged  from  the  sol- 
diers in  gray,  who  also  began  a  pursuit  and  some  five  hun- 

[48] 


5 

td 

F 


DON'T  SHOOT  BOYS! 

dred  shots  were  fired  at  the  fleeing  men.  It  was  evident 
that  the  two  were  trying  to  reach  the  Union  lines,  but 
when  within  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  one  in  the  lead 
suddenly  raised  in  his  saddle,  took  quick  aim,  and  the 
other  toppled  to  the  ground  to  rise  no  more.  A  detach- 
ment was  sent  out  under  Cody  to  meet  the  horseman  and 
check  his  pursuers.  In  the  dim  twilight  it  was  difficult 
to  distinguish  faces.  The  Confederates,  on  seeing  the 
charge  made  by  Cody  and  his  men,  paused  and,  wheeling 
around,  rode  back  to  their  lines. 

The  lone  horseman  kept  on  coming.  He  was  a  Confed- 
erate officer.  Instantly  every  Union  rifle  came  to  the 
shoulder,  awaiting  the  command  to  fire. 

"Don't  shoot,  boys ;  it's  a  Union  spy.  It's  Wild  Bill !" 
shouted  Cody. 


[49] 


CHAPTER  V. 


WILD  BILL'S  OWN  STORY. 

IX  foot  two,  broad  chested,  measuring  fifty 
inches  around,  with  a  waist  that  you  could 
almost  span,  a  foot  like  a  woman,  long,  blond 
hair,  which  glistened  like  gold  in  the  sun 
light,  and  with  muscles  equalling  any  trained 
athlete  or  prize  fighter,  Wild  Bill  Hickok  was  a  magnifi- 
cent specimen  of  manhood  and  one  of  the  most  deadly 
shots  with  rifle  or  pistol  that  ever  lived.  Moreover,  he 
was  an  expert  horseman,  with  nerves  of  steel  and  a  heart 
as  brave  as  a  lion. 

Fiction  in  its  wildest  flights  of  imagination  never 
chronicled  a  more  thrilling  episode  than  that  which 
happened  to  Wild  Bill — and  what  follows  is  an  exact 
reproduction  of  his  own  story  of  the  McCandlass  gang 
fight — the  greatest  single-handed  encounter  and  battle 

[51] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

ever  fought — here  are  his  exact  words  as  told  to  Buffalo 
Bill,  shortly  after  the  fight : 

"I  hardly  know  where  to  begin.  I  was  at  it  for  the 
Union  all  through  the  war.  I  don't  like  to  talk  of  that 
McCandlass  affair.  It  gives  me  a  queer  shiver  when  I 
think  of  those  ten  blazing  men  eager,  literally,  to  pull  my 
heart  out  and  eat  it.  Lord,  how  wicked  we  men  are 
down  deep! 

"You  see,  this  Jack  McCandlass  was  the  captain  of  a 
gang  of  horse  thieves  and  murderers  who  were  the  terror 
of  the  border  States.  McCandlass  was  the  biggest  and 
most  brutal  of  them  all.  Jim  McCandlass  was  next.  He 
was  Jack's  brother.  One  day  I  beat  him,  Jack,  shooting 
at  a  mark,  and  then  threw  him,  wrestling — and  I  didn't 
drop  him  as  softly  as  you  would  a  couple  of  poached  eggs 
on  toast,  either — so  he  got  savage-mad  about  it  and  swore 
that  he  would  have  his  revenge  on  me  some  time.  That 
was  just  before  the  war  broke  out,  in  April,  '61,  and  we 
were  already  taking  sides  for  the  South  or  Union.  Mc- 
Candlass and  his  gang  were  border  ruffians  in  the  Kansas 
row,  and,  of  course,  they  went  with  the  rebs.  I  forgot 
McCandlass,  but  he  didn't  forget  me,  it  appears.  I  went 
Union. 

is*] 


MY  GOD  !  THEY'LL  KILL  You ! 

"It- was  in  '61,  when  I  was  guiding  a  detachment  of 
cavalry  that  was  coming  in  from  Camp  Floyd.  We  had 
nearly  reached  the  Kansas  line,  and  were  in  South 
Nebraska  when  one  afternoon  I  went  out  of  camp  to  go  to 
the  cabin  of  an  old  friend  of  mine,  a  Mrs.  Waltman.  I 
took  only  one  of  my  revolvers  with  me,  for  although  the 
war  had  broken  out  I  didn't  think  it  necessary  to  carry 
both  my  pistols  on  all  occasions.  In  ordinary  fights  one 
is  better  than  two — if  you  shoot  straight.  I  saw  some 
wild  turkeys  on  the  road  as  I  was  going  down,  and  I 
shot  one,  thinking  it  would  be  just  the  thing  for  Mrs. 
Waltman's  supper,  for  a  wild  turkey  is  very  sweet  eating. 
I  rode  up  to  Mrs.  Waltman's,  jumped  off  my  horse  and 
went  into  the  cabin,  which  was  like  most  of  the  cabins 
on  the  prairie,  with  only  one  room  and  two  doors,  one 
opening  in  front,  the  other  to  a  sort  of  yard  and  pretty 
garden. 

"  'How  are  you,  Mrs.  Waltman  ?'  I  said. 

"The  second  she  saw  me  she  turned  as  white  as  a  corpse 
and  actually  screamed — 

"  'Is  that  you,  Bill  ?  Oh,  my  God !  They  will  kill  you  ! 
Run,  run,  or  they  will  chop  you  all  to  bits/ 

"  'Who's  going  to  kill  me?'  I  said. 

[53] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"  'It's  McCandlass  and  his  gang !  There's  ten  of  them, 
and  you've  no  chance !  They've  just  gone  down  the  road 
to  the  corn  rack!  They  came  up  here  only  five  minutes 
ago !  McCandlass  was  dragging  poor  Parson  Shipley  on 
the  ground  with  a  lariat  'round  his  neck!  McCandlass 
knows  of  you  bringing  in  that  party  of  Yankee  cavalry 
and  he  swears  he'll  cut  your  heart  out  and  eat  it!  Run, 
Bill,  run,  like  a  good  boy.'  I  was  only  twenty-three,  then. 
'My  God,  you  can't!  It's  too  late!  They're  coming  up 
the  lane  and  they've  seen  your  horse !' 

"All  the  time  the  poor  lady  was  talking  I  was  thinking 
that  I  had  only  one  revolver,  and  a  load — for  the  turkey — 
was  gone  out  of  that.  On  the  table  were  a  horn  of  powder 
and  some  little  bars  of  lead.  I  poured  some  powder  into 
the  empty  chamber  and  rammed  the  lead  after  it  by 
hammering  the  barrel  on  the  table,  and  had  just  capped 
the  pistol  when  I  heard  Jack  McCandlass  shout : — 

"  'Yes,  it's  that  damned  Yankee,  Bill  Hickok's,  horse ! 
He's  here !  Let's  skin  him  alive !' 

"If  I  had  thought  of  running  before,  it  was  then  too 
late.  I  never  dreamed  that  I  should  leave  that  room  alive. 
Later  something  breathed  on  me  and  made -me  strong." 

Here  Hickok  stopped,  rose  to  his  feet  and  glided  back 

[54] 


WILD  BILL  PRAYS 

and  forth  in  great  excitement.  It  was  not  acting.  It 
was  the  real  thing.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  us.  He 
was  living  in  the  past. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  gentlemen.  I  don't  mind  a  scrim- 
mage with  these  fellows  around  here.  Shoot  one  or  two 
of  them  and  the  rest  will  skedaddle  like  a  lot  of  fright- 
ened rats;  but  all  of  the  McCandlass  gang  were  reckless 
devils  who  could  and  would  fight  so  long  as  they  were 
able  to  stand,  sit,  shoot,  stab,  punch,  tear  or  bite.  That 
was  one  of  the  few  times  that  I  prayed,  gentlemen.  Since 
then  I've  prayed  often.  Prayer  is  wonderful  to  help 
out. 

"  'Surround  the  house  and  give  the no  quar- 
ter!' yelled  McCandlass.  When  I  heard  that  I  felt  as 
quiet  and  cool  as  if  I  were  going  to  church  with  my 
father  and  mother  and  sisters.  I  looked  around  the  room 
and  saw  a  Hawkins  rifle  hanging  over  the  bed.  'Is  that 
loaded?'  I  asked  Mrs.  Waltman. 

"  'Yes/  the  poor  thing-  whimpered.  She  was  so  scared 
— and  no  wonder! — that  she  couldn't  speak  out  loud.  I 
felt  guilty  to  have  pulled  the  row  off  in  her  cabin. 

"  'Are  you  sure  ?'  said  I,  as  I  jumped  on  the  bed  and 
caught  it  from  its  hooks.  She  nodded  yes  again.  Just 

[551 


THRILLING  LIVES 

then  McCandlass  poked  his  head  inside  the  doorway,  but 
jumped  back  when  he  saw  me  with  the  Hawkins  in  my 
hands. 

"  'Come  in,  you  dirty  dog !'  I  shouted.  My  voice  seemed 
to  me  to  cross  the  Atlantic.  McCandlass  was  a  big  bully, 
but  not  a  rank  coward.  He  jumped  into  the  room  with 
two  hells  in  his  eyes,  his  gun  almost  levelled  to  shoot  the 
heart  out  of  me,  but  he  wasn't  quick  enough.  The  Lord 
must  have  delayed  him,  and  my  rifle  ball  tore  the  top  of 
his  head  off.  There  was  a  dead  silence  as  he  fell  back 
through  the  doorway.  I  put  down  the  rifle  on  the  bed 
and  picked  the  revolver  from  it.  Mrs.  Waltman — bless 
her  dear  soul — had  disappeared  through  the  yard.  I 
couldn't  help  inwardly  smiling  and  saying,  like  an  actor 
in  a  St.  Louis  stage  play,  'Deserted  on  the  eve  of  battle 
by  my  army !' 

"Only  six  shots  and  nine  men  to  kill!  I  don't  know 
how  it  was,  but  something  really  seemed  to  breathe  on 
me  just  then  and  things  seemed  clear  and  fine  and  sharp. 
I  could  think  strong.  There  were  a  few  seconds  of  that 
up  yonder  silence,  and  then  they  came  through  both  doors 
with  a  rush !  How  wild  they  looked,  with  their  red,  sin- 
splashed,  crime-masked  faces  and  flaming  eyes,  shouting 

[56] 


WILD  BILL  AT  BAY 

and  saying  things  I  was  glad  good  Mrs.  Waltman  didn't 
hear.  I  never  aimed  more  coolly  in  my  life.  One,  two, 
three,  four — and  four  men  were  dead,  not  wounded.  I 
never  wound.  McCandlass  made  the  number  five.  That 
didn't  stop  the  remaining  five.  Two  of  them  fired  their 
bird  guns  at  me  and  I  felt  fire  run  all  over  me.  The  room 
was  full  of  smoke.  Two  got  close  to  me,  their  eyes  burn- 
ing like  hell.  One  I  knocked  down  with  my  fist.  I  think 
I  broke  his  jaw.  The  other  I  shot  dead.  The  three 
others  crowded  me  onto  the  bed. 

"I  had  to  fight  fast.  I  broke  one  man's  arm.  He  had 
his  fingers  round  my  throat  and  was  tearing  at  it  like  a 
wildcat.  Then  I  went  wild  as  a  grizzly — some  one  struck 
me  across  the  breast  with  a  rifle  and  I  felt  the  blood 
rush  from  my  nose',  ears  and  mouth.  Then  I  got  ugly, 
bad,  horrible,  as  all  of  them  put  together — cruel,  crazy, 
sorry  that  there  wasn't  a  roomful  more  of  them — and  I 
got  a  bowie  somehow  into  my  hand.  Then  it  was  all 
clouds,  smoke,  flame,  blood,  runaway  stars,  breaking  suns, 
bursting  moons,  roaring  seas  of  crimson,  and  as  they  tried 
to  rise  I  slashed  at  their  heads  with  the  heavy  backed 
bowie,  chased  them  around  the  room,  into  corners,  closed 
the  doors  so  they  couldn't  escape,  stabbed,  chopped, 

[57] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

slashed  breasts,  arms,  heads,  faces,  until  I  knew  that  every 
man  was  dead  twice  over !' 

"All  of  a  sudden  it  seemed  as  if  my  heart  were  afire. 
I  was  bleeding  everywhere,  from  knees  to  scalp.  I  stag- 
gered out  to  the  well,  drank  from  the  bucket,  and  then 
tumbled,  the  bucket  over  my  head  soaked  with  blood — 
my  own  and  theirs — and  well  water,  over  in  a  faint,  just 
like  a  girl." 

Hickok  was  wounded  by  three  bullets,  eleven  buck- 
shot, and  was  cut  in  thirteen  places.  It  was  six  months 
before  "Wild  Bill"  fully  recovered  from  the  result  of 
what  was  one  of  the  most  thrilling  exploits  in  border  his- 
tory. 


[58] 


CHAPTER  VI. 
How  BUFFALO  BILL  WON  His  NAME. 


N  1865,  at  the  close  of  the  war,  Cody  was  dis- 
charged with  honors.  He  had  served  his 
country  well.  He  went  to  St.  Louis  and 
brought  to  a  culmination  the  sweetest  ro- 
mance of  his  life  by  marrying  Miss  Louisa 
Frederici.  For  a  period  the  scout  settled  down  to  a 
quiet  life  and  became  a  hotel  proprietor  by  renting  a 
hostelry  in  Salt  Creek  Valley,  Kansas.  He  was  a  jolly 
"mine  host,"  and  it  looked  for  a  while  as  if  the  plains 
would  lose  one  of  its  favored  sons.  But  the  call  of  the 
wild  pleaded  strongly,  and  once  more  Bill  Cody  donned 
the  buckskin. 

The  war  had  left  its  bitterness  in  many  places.  Cody 
was  to  see  one  instance  that  was  anything  from  pleasant. 
Shortly  after  his  wedding  the  happy  pair  started  on  a 
short  journey.  They  boarded  a  Missouri  River  steamboat 
and  headed  for  their  new  home  in  Kansas. 

[59] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"I  say,  Cody,"  one  gentleman  remarked,  after  the  boat 
had  proceeded  but  a  short  way,  "the  people  on  this  boat 
don't  seem  to  have  any  too  great  a  love  for  you." 

Cody  had  noticed  that  several  on  board  had  pointed 
their  ringer  at  him  and  passed  remarks  that  he  could  not 
plainly  hear. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  Cody  asked.  "What  are  they 
saying?  It's  all  a  mystery  to  me." 

"They  say  that  you  are  one  of  the  Kansas  jayhawkers, 
and  one  of  Jennison's  house-burners." 

"I  am  from  Kansas,  that's  true;  and  was  a  soldier  and 
scout  in  the  Union  army,"  Cody  replied,  "and  I  was  in 
Kansas  during  the  border  ruffian  war  of  1856.  Perhaps 
these  people  know  who  I  am  and  that  explains  their  hard 
looks." 

The  second  day  out  from  St.  Louis  the  boat  stopped  to 
wood  up  at  a  wild-looking  landing.  Suddenly  twenty 
horsemen  were  seen  galloping  through  the  timber,  and  as 
they  came  nearer  the  boat  they  fired  on  the  negro  deck- 
hands, against  whom  they  seemed  to  have  a  special  grudge. 
The  negroes  jumped  back  on  deck,  from  where  they  had 
been  throwing  on  wood,  and  pulled  in  the  gangplank. 

[60] 


CODY  MEETS  CUSTER 

The  steamer  pulled  out  in  the  stream  as  the  bushwhack- 
ers appeared  on  the  bank. 

"Where  is  that  abolition  jayhawker?"  shouted  the 
leader. 

"Show  him  to  us  and  we'll  shoot  him!"  yelled  another. 
But  by  this  time  the  boat  was  well  out  and  the  incident 
closed.  It  was  rather  embarrassing  for  the  newly  wedded 
man  to  meet  with  such  a  reception  as  this;  but  he  was 
equal  to  the  occasion.  Telegraphing  from  Kansas  City, 
Cody  had  a  party  of  his  friends  meet  the  steamer  on  its 
arrival,  and  the  reception  they  got  was  more  than  gratify- 
ing to  the  young  bride. 

In  1866-67  he  acted  as  scout  at  Fort  Fletcher,  and  later 
at  Fort  Hays.  While  there  he  met  the  gallant  Custer  for 
the  first  time. 

"Cody,  I  want  a  guide,"  Custer  said,  "to  take  myself 
and  men  to  Fort  Larned.  Can  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"When?" 

"I  am  ready  to  start  now,  sir,"  and  Cody  saddled  up  a 
big  mule. 

"I  want  to  travel  fast ;  do  you  think  that  mule  of  yours 
can  keep  up?" 

[61] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"General,  never  mind  the  mule,"  Cody  replied;  "he'll 
get  there  as  soon  as  your  horses." 

For  the  first  fifteen  miles,  until  they  came  to  the  Smoky 
Hill  River,  Cody  had  trouble  in  keeping  his  mount  moving 
fast  enough.  But  soon  the  animal  struck  its  gait,  and 
when  the  party  reached  Fort  Larned,  sixty-five  miles 
away,  Cody  was  in  the  lead. 

"General,  how  about  that  mule?"  asked  the  scout,  with 
a  smile. 

"You  had  a  better  vehicle  than  I  thought,"  Custer  said, 
laughing. 

A  short  time  after  this,  while  the  Union  Pacific  was 
pushing  its  tracks  westward,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
buffalo  country,  the  Indians  being  constantly  on  the  war- 
path, it  was  difficult,  almost  impossible,  to  obtain  fresh 
meat  for  the  workmen. 

The  Messrs.  Goddard  Brothers  had  the  contract  for 
supplying  meat,  and  found  themselves  sorely  pressed  to 
live  up  to  its  terms.  It  was  suggested  that  Cody,  being 
a  crack  shot  and  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  plains, 
might  be  the  very  man  they  needed,  as  he  could  kill  all  the 
buffaloes  necessary.  They  sent  for  the  young  man,  an 
offer  was  made  him  of  five  hundred  dollars  a  month  for 


HUNT  FOR  BUFFALO 

all  the  fresh  meat  they  would  require.     Cody  accepted, 
and  the  next  day  started  on  a  hunt. 

He  rode  a  horse  named  Brigham,  one  that  Cody  be- 
lieved was  the  shrewdest  and  best  plainsman's  animal  that 
ever  lived.  It  did  not  take  the  hunter  long  to  locate  a 
buffalo  herd.  Just  as  he  was  preparing  to  make  a  charge 
a  party  of  horsemen  rode  out  from  Fort  Hays.  They 
proved  to  be  some  newly  arrived  officers  from  the  East, 
one  being  a  Captain  Graham  and  the  others  lieutenants. 

"Hello,  my  friend,"  called  out  the  Captain,  "I  see  you 
are  after  the  same  game  as  we  are." 

"Yes,  sir,"  Cody  replied.  "I  saw  the  buffaloes  coming 
over  the  hill  and  was  just  starting  for  some  fresh  meat 
for  the  railroad  men." 

Cody's  unassuming  saddle  outfit  made  a  sad  comparison 
with  the  excellent  equipment  of  the  soldiers.  His  horse  in 
particular  came  in  for  a  bit  of  joking.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  animal  in  his  straps  did  not  show  to  the  best 
advantage. 

"Do  you  expect  to  catch  buffaloes  on  that  nag?"  asked 
one. 

"I  hope  so,  by  pushing  the  reins  hard  enough." 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"You'll  never  do  it  in  the  world,  young  fellow,"  the 
Captain  said.  "It  takes  a  fast  horse." 

"Does  it?"  asked  Cody  innocently. 

"Yes,  but  come  along  with  us — we're  out  for  pleasure 
more  than  anything — all  we  want  are  the  tongues  and 
tenderloins,  we'll  be  good  to  you,  you  can  have  the  rest," 
the  Captain  added  generously. 

"Much  obliged,  Captain,  I'll  follow  you" — Cody  had  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  About  a  mile  away  was  a  herd  of 
eleven  fine  buffaloes.  The  officers  dashed  ahead.  Cody 
took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  The  herd  started  for  a 
creek  and  the  scout  knew  their  nature  well  enough  to 
realize  the  difficulty  of  turning  them  from  their  direct 
course.  He  sped  towards  the  creek  while  the  officers 
closed  in  the  rear  and  gave  chase.  The  herd  came  crashing 
by  Cody  not  over  a  hundred  yards  away.  He  circled  the 
band  and  in  twelve  shots  the  entire  herd  was  sprawled 
on  the  blood-stained  ground.  He  dismounted  and  was 
examining  the  buffaloes  when  the  officers  came  up. 

"Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  all  the  tongues 
and  all  the  tenderloins  that  you  wish  from  these  carcasses," 
and  Cody  smiled  graciously. 

[64] 


IRON  TAIL,  THE  SIOUX  CHIEF. 


PURSUED  BY  INDIANS 

"By  Jove,  that  was  great  work,"  pouted  the  Captain. 
"Who  under  the  sun  are  you,  anyway?" 

"My  name  is  Cody." 

One  of  the  junior  officers  had  heard  of  the  scout's  feats 
in  the  expeditions  that  had  gone  before,  and  they  all  shook 
hands  warmly,  insisting  that  Cody  return  to  the  fort  with 
them  for  a  little  celebration.  That  very  night  Indians 
made  a  raid  on  the  horses.  A  detachment  of  colored  sol- 
diers under  Captain  Graham,  with  Cody  as  scout,  started 
in  pursuit.  Nearing  sunrise  he  located  the  redskins  and 
just  as  the  charge  was  to  be  made  one  of  the  negroes 
in  his  excitement  fired  a  gun.  A  dash  was  made  but  the 
Indians  being  warned  and  seeing  they  were  outnumbered 
took  to  their  horses  and  escaped. 

Cody  resumed  his  work  as  meat  provider  for  the  rail- 
roaders. One  day,  in  the  Spring  of  1868,  he  started  for 
Smoky  Hill  River,  where  reports  had  it  that  large  herds 
of  buffaloes  were  grazing.  On  reaching  the  place  he 
selected  a  knoll  from  which  to  make  a  charge  and  was 
just  about  ready  when  about  half  a  mile  away  he  discov- 
ered a  party  of  about  thirty  Indians.  That  he  had  been 
seen  the  scout  knew,  as  the  Indians  started  for  him  on  a 
mad  gallop. 

[65] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"My  only  chance  is  to  make  a  run  for  it,"  he  mused,  and 
wheeling  his  horse,  started  for  the  railroad  camp.  After 
a  few  hundred  yards  he  turned,  saw  them  coming,  and  saw, 
too,  that  they  were  gaining  on  him.  Eight  or  nine  of  the 
yelping  devils  had  closed  the  gap  to  about  three  hundred 
yards — one  Indian  in  particular,  who  rode  a  fine  spotted, 
swift-footed  horse,  annoyed  Cody  by  sending  frequent  rifle 
bullets  in  unfriendly  proximity  to  his  head. 

"That's  about  enough  for  you,"  thought  Cody,  as  one 
ball  clipped  the  air  near  his  ear.  He  pulled  his  horse  up 
short,  swung  in  the  saddle  with  rifle  to  shoulder ;  the  Indian 
was  eighty  yards  away  and  coming  like  mad. 

Bang! 

Down  went  the  Indian's  horse. 

Cody  saw  the  effect  of  his  shot  and  spurred  on.  The 
others  were  making  big  gains.  By  turning  and  shooting 
quickly,  then  dashing  away,  Cody  laid  several  in  the  dust. 
The  rest  still  kept  up  the  chase,  but  Cody's  horse  had  the 
staying  power  and  soon  outdistanced  the  maddened  red- 
skins. Dashing  into  camp  Cody  secured  a  detachment  of 
fifty  soldiers  and  started  after  the  Indians.  It  was  just 
in  time,  too,  as  they  had  just  overtaken  one  of  the  supply 
wagons  of  the  railroad  coming  from  another  direction. 

[66] 


CODY  IN  PERIL 

At  first  fire  from  the  soldiers  the  Indians  retreated,  only 
to  renew  the  attack  a  second  later.  The  battle  waged  for 
hours  when,  with  a  final  charge  by  Cody  and  his  men,  the 
Indians  fled,  leaving  five  of  their  number  dead  on  the 
plains. 

And  so  it  went  from  day  to  day.  Cody  was  in  con- 
stant peril,  but  despite  it  all  he  stuck  to  the  terms  of  his 
contract  in  supplying  meat  for  the  railroad.  It  was  largely 
due  to  his  sturdy  efforts  that  the  Union  Pacific  was  able 
to  make  the  progress  it  did. 

While  hunting  one  day  Cody  met  Kit  Carson  and  his 
escort.  The  two  were  fast  friends  and  spent  several  days 
together  at  Fort  Hays.  Cody's  fame  and  success  as  a 
buffalo  hunter  spread  far  and  wide.  There  were  others 
that  achieved  success  in  the  perilous  game  of  buffalo  hunt- 
ing and  each  treasured  his  own  record. 

One  in  particular — Billy  Comstock,  a  noted  scout,  guide 
and  interpreter,  then  chief  of  scouts  at  Fort  Wallace,  Kan- 
sas, had  the  local  distinction  of  being  the  champion  buffalo 
hunter.  There  were  others  that  thought  Cody  the  best 
shot  on  the  plains.  When  the  subject  was  mentioned  to 
the  latter  he  had  nothing  to  say,  he  was  always  modest, 
but  when  pressed  agreed  to  enter  any  sort  of  a  competition 

[671 


THRILLING  LIVES 

that  would  leave  no  future  doubts  as  to  who  was  entitled 
to  the  laurels  of  champion. 

The  officers  had  taken  a  great  liking  to  Cody  and  be- 
lieved that  as  a  buffalo  hunter  and  all-around  scout,  guide 
and  crack  shot,  his  equal  did  not  exist.  A  purse  of 
five  hundred  dollars  was  raised  and  Comstock  challenged 
to  settle  the  matter  of  supremacy  between  him  and  Cody  as 
buffalo  hunters.  The  money  was  to  go  as  a  side  bet. 

A  condition  of  the  hunt  was  that  it  should  commence  at 
eight  in  the  morning  and  close  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  the 
winner  to  be  considered  as  the  champion  buffalo  hunter 
of  the  world. 

These  details  were  sent  to  Comstock,  who  was  at  that 
time  known  as  "Buffalo  Bill  Comstock."  This  title  was 
also  involved  in  the  outcome  of  the  shoot.  He  readily 
agreed  to  the  terms,  and  the  event  was  advertised  far  and 
wide. 

A  point  twenty  miles  east  of  Sheridan  was  selected  as 
the  place  of  contest.  Hundreds  of  men  and  women  assem- 
bled on  the  designated  day,  coming  from  St.  Louis  and 
many  other  cities. 

The  day  broke  clear  and  cloudless,  with  just  enough 
crisp  in  the  air  to  make  it  invigorating.  It  was  agreed  that 

[68] 


CODY'S  NEW  FEAT 

the  men  should  go  into  the  same  herd  at  the  same  time, 
each  killing  as  many  as  possible. 

Comstock  was  mounted  on  his  favorite  horse,  Cody  rode 
Brigham.  The  referee  gave  the  signal  and  the  great 
hunt  was  on.  Both  men  spurted  for  the  herd,  Comstock 
to  the  left  and  Cody  to  the  right.  Comstock  got  twenty- 
three,  Cody  shot  thirty-eight,  the  entire  number  in  the  herd 
he  was  in.  He  was  loudly  applauded  by  the  throng  of 
spectators,  who  had  been  left  a  half  mile  away,  until  the 
charge  was  made,  and  then  they  closed  in  close  to  watch 
the  shooting. 

After  a  short  rest  another  herd  was  discovered.  Com- 
stock shot  fourteen  and  Cody  eighteen,  making  the  score 
fifty-six  to  thirty-seven  in  the  young  scout's  favor. 

A  halt  was  called  for  lunch ;  good  fellowship  prevailed. 
With  victory  thus  in  sight  and  flushed  with  confidence, 
Cody  proposed  a  feat  that  was  astounding. 

"In  the  next  trial,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  will  ride  my 
horse  without  saddle  or  bridle,"  he  announced — and  good 
as  his  word,  when  the  signal  was  given,  Cody's  horse  had 
no  harnessing  of  any  kind. 

Guns  popped,  the  hunters  rode  like  mad,  Cody  cool  and 
deliberate,  taking  his  shots  with  such  skill  that  it  evoked 

[69] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

constant  exclamations  of  wonder  from  the  spectators.  The 
plains  were  strewn  with  dead  buffaloes.  When  the  final 
score  was  announced  it  stood,  Comstock  forty-six,  Cody 
sixty-nine.  A  tremendous  cheer  arose,  Cody  was  smoth- 
ered with  congratulations. 

"Three  cheers  for  Bill  Cody,"  some  one  suggested. 

"Wait— wait"  shouted  another— "let's  give  three  for 
Bill  Comstock,  and  then  three  rousing  ones  for  the  greatest 
hunter  of  them  all  and  crown  him  with  his  new  title — 
now,  all  together — three  cheers  for  Buffalo  Bill  Cody!" 


[70] 


CHAPTER  VII. 
SHERIDAN'S  CHIEF  OF  SCOUTS. 

HAVE    important    dispatches     for    General 
Sheridan,   and  my  instructions   from  Cap- 
tain Parker,  commanding  Fort  Lamed,  are 
that  they  shall  be  delivered  to  the  General 
as  soon  as  possible,"  announced  a  courier, 
dust  covered  and  fatigued  from  a  hard  ride. 
"Give  them  to  me,"  an  officer  said. 
"I  prefer  giving  them  to  General  Sheridan  myself  and 
at  once."     Sheridan  was  asleep  at  the  time — an  orderly 
went  to  notify  him  of  the  courier's  arrival,  and  it  was  none 
other  than  Buffalo  Bill  Cody. 

Shortly  after  the  hunt  in  which  he  won  his  title  Cody 
completed  his  work  with  the  railroad,  supplying  in  all  four 
thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty  buffaloes.  He  then  re- 
turned to  scout  duty  at  Fort  Larned.  He  had  been  sent  on 


THRILLING  LIVES 

a  mission  to  Fort  Zarah,  and  completing  it,  started  on  the 
return  to  Fort  Larned  on  a  mule. 

Not  a  dozen  miles  had  been  covered  when  about  forty 
Indians  dashed  up. 

"How,  how,"  they  exclaimed  in  friendly  greeting. 

"How,"  Cody  replied,  eyeing  them  suspiciously,  noting 
they  wore  their  war  paint. 

"Shake  hands,"  an  Indian  said. 

Cody  extending  his  in  good  will,  it  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  grasp,  a  tightening  of  grip  and  the  scout  was 
jerked  violently  forward,  another  grabbed  the  bridle  and 
a  second  later  Cody  was  completely  surrounded.  Then  all 
grew  black  before  him,  he  had  been  felled  with  the  blow 
of  a  tomahawk  dealt  from  behind. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  Cody  found  that  he  had  been 
carried  to  an  Indian  village.  There  was  a  council  going 
on  and  he  was  placed  in  the  center  of  the  chiefs,  presided 
over  by  Santanta,  a  bloodthirsty  and  crafty  redskin.  The 
outlook  was  bad,  and  Cody  realized  it.  Never  for  a  mo- 
ment did  he  falter  in  bravery,  his  wits  collected  he  knew 
A.hat  it  was  one  chance  in  a  hundred  if  he  ever  escaped, 
and  if  he  did  it  would  not  be  by  force  but  by  outscheming 


CODY'S  STRATAGEM 

the  Indians — just  how  he  could  not  tell  then,  but  the 
chance  came  and  he  was  equal  for  the  emergency. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  Santanta  asked. 

"After  cattle,"  came  the  quick  reply — it  flashed  through 
Cody's  mind  that  the  Indians  had  been  without  meat  for 
some  time  and  that  in  their  efforts  to  pacify  the  redskins 
meat  had  been  promised  them  by  a  certain  general. 

Santanta  was  interested  at  once.  He  eagerly  questioned 
the  scout. 

"I  was  sent  by  the  General"— Cody  lied  glibly— "to  tell 
you  that  the  cattle  were  coming." 

"Good,"  grunted  the  old  rascal,  then,  with  a  frown, 
"soldiers  come,  too?" 

"Yes." 

"General  send  cattle  to  us?" 

"Yes,  I  was  ordered  to  bring  them  over  here" — then  in 
a  bold  tone — "why  did  .your  young  men  treat  me  so 
roughly,  I  came  here  friendly  to  you?" 

"Very  sorry,  all  a  mistake,"  and  the  wily  chief  smiled. 
Santanta  was  thinking  hard.  He  wanted  the  cattle,  but 
he  did  not  want  a  fight  with  the  soldiers. 

[73] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"I  was  to  bring  the  herd  to  the  river  there  so  you  could 
get  them,"  Buffalo  Bill  said  with  nonchalance. 

"Shall  I  send  my  young  men  with  you?" 

"No,  it  is  better  for  me  to  go  alone — then  the  soldiers 
can  go  right  on  to  Fort  Lamed  while  I  drive  the  herd 
over  the  river  for  you." 

Santanta,  believing  that  Cody  was  telling  the  truth, 
apologized  for  his  unruly  young  men  and  permitted  the 
scout  to  leave  the  village.  Cody  wheeled  about,  spurred 
his  mule  and  rode  away  in  the  supposed  direction  of  the 
cattle. 

All  went  well  for  a  little  while.  He  took  his  time  in 
getting  away,  so  as  not  to  arouse  suspicion,  and  then, 
when  at  a  safe  distance,  he  struck  into  a  lively  gait  and 
swerved  from  his  course,  heading  for  the  fort.  He  had 
gone  but  a  short  way  when,  upon  looking  back,  saw  that 
ten  or  twelve  Indians  were  following  him.  They  saw  him 
turn,  and  in  a  flash  realized  that  they  had  been  hoaxed, 
started  in  pursuit.  The  chase  continued  until  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  fort,  when  finally  Cody  spied  a  government 
wagon  with  soldiers. 

"Into  the  brush,  quick!"  shouted  Cody,  "Indians 
coming." 

[74] 


FOR  GEN'L  SHERMAN 

The  team  was  driven  among  the  trees  and  hi'dden.  A 
sharp  turn  had  made  the  hiding  successful  from  the  In- 
dians. It  wasn't  a  long  wait  before  the  redskins  thundered 
along.  Two  of  them  passed  the  hiding  place. 

"Give  it  to  'em,"  commanded  Cody. 

Others  had  come  up  in  the  meantime  and  four  feathered 
warriors  toppled  to  the  dust  at  first  fire.  Finally  Buffalo 
Bill  popped  another  from  his  horse,  then  realizing  that 
they  had  been  ambushed,  the  other  Indians  turned  and 
fled.  The  scalps  were  taken  along  with  their  arms  and 
equipment  by  Cody  and  soldiers.  The  next  morning  San- 
tanta  with  his  entire  force  surrounded  the  fort. 

"Cody,  the  captain  is  anxious  to  send  dispatches  to  Gen- 
eral Sheridan  at  Fort  Hayes,"  one  of  the  officers  said, 
"and  none  of  the  men  are  willing  to  go,  will  you  tackle  it?" 

"It's  a  risky  trip,  the  country  is  full  of  hostile  Indians," 
Cody  replied,  "but  if  no  other  scout  is  willing  to  volunteer 
I'll  chance  it.  Give  me  a  good  horse  and  I'll  start  at  dusk." 

A  terrific  rainstorm  gathered  in  the  later  afternoon.  By 
six  o'clock  it  was  impossible  to  see  a  dozen  rods  ahead. 
This  added  further  peril  to  the  undertaking  which  none 
would  risk  except  brave  Cody. 

[7SJ 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Good-bye,  Bill,  and  good  luck,"  was  the  parting  saluta- 
tion that  greeted  the  scout's  ears.  He  groped  his  way 
slowly.  Only  once  during  the  night  was  he  in  real  danger, 
and  then  he  ran  into  an  Indian  outpost  watching  the  vil- 
lage. The  redskin  had  fallen  asleep  and  Cody  was  on 
him  in  a  flash.  A  heavy  blow  from  Cody's  rifle  butt  laid 
the  Indian  unconscious.  He  could  just  as  easily  have  killed 
him,  but  it  was  not  Cody's  way  of  doing.  It  might  be  said 
here  that  in  all  the  bloody  times  that  Buffalo  Bill  went 
through,  he  never  took  a  redman's  life  except  to  save  his 
own. 

Cody  got  away  without  being  seen  or  heard  by  those  in 
the  village.  It  was  a  sixty-mile  grind.  He  reached  Gen- 
eral Sheridan's  headquarters  just  at  sunrise. 

"Hello  Cody,  is  that  you!"  greeted  Sheridan,  coming 
from  his  room. 

"Yes,  sir — I  have  some  dispatches  here  for  you  from 
Captain  Parker." 

Sheridan  read  the  papers  carefully,  and  then  Cody  re- 
lated his  experiences  of  the  day  previous. 

"Bill,"  Sheridan  said,  "you  must  have  breakfast  with 
[76] 


GREETED  BY  SHERIDAN 

me.  That  was  a  good  joke  you  played  on  Santanta.  You 
have  had  a  long,  hard  ride  and  must  be  tired." 

"A  little  weary,  General/' 

"Come,  have  breakfast  with  me." 

"Thank  you  sir,  but  I  think  I'll  ride  over  to  Hayes  City, 
it's  only  a  mile,  and  I  have  some  friends  there." 

"Very  well,  but  come  back,  as  I  want  to  see  you  before 
you  return  to  the  fort." 

A  short  visit,  a  hearty  meal  and  after  handshaking 
around  and  a  brief  nap,  Cody  returned  to  headquarters  and 
was  about  ready  to  leave  for  Fort  Larned.  Several  scouts 
were  gathered  around  headquarters  and  talking  excitedly. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Cody. 

"The  General  wants  some  one  to  carry  dispatches  to 
Fort  Dodge." 

"That's  about  a  ninety-five  mile  trip  and  a  long  one,  too," 
Cody  mused  to  himself,  walking  in  to  see  the  General  as 
he  had  been  requested. 

They  had  been  talking  a  few  minutes  when  the  chief 
of  scouts  entered.  "General,"  he  said,  "no  one  has  vol- 
unteered to  go  to  Fort  Dodge." 

"Very  well,"  Sheridan  replied,  with  just  a  trace  of  a 
frown. 

177] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"General,  if  no  one  will  volunteer  I'll  carry  your  dis- 
patches myself." 

"I  had  not  thought  of  asking  you  to  do  this  duty,  Cody," 
the  General  responded,  evidently  pleased  and  in  surprise, 
"as  you  are  already  pretty  hard  worked,  but  it  is  really 
important  that  these  dispatches  should  go  through." 

"If  you  don't  get  a  courier  by  four  o'clock,  I'll  be  ready 
at  that  time,"  Cody  answered.  "All  I  want  is  a  fresh 
horse,  meantime  I'll  take  a  little  more  rest." 

Four  o'clock  came,  but  no  volunteers. 

"General,  I'm  ready,"  Cody  said,  presenting  himself  to 
Sheridan. 

"Good  luck  go  with  you,  my  boy." 

The  trip  proved  uneventful  except  for  the  hardship  it 
entailed  on  the  already  worn-out  courier.  He  arrived  at 
Fort  Dodge  a  little  after  nine  next  morning.  The  com- 
manding officer  there  had  dispatches  for  Fort  Larned, 
but,  as  before,  no  one  cared  to  volunteer  on  the  long,  hard 
and  dangerous  ride.  Cody  again  came  to  the  front. 

"Give  me  a  fresh  horse  and  I'll  carry  them  for  you," 
he  said. 

"I  am  sorry,  but  we  haven't  a  decent  horse  here,  but  we 

[78] 


DANGER-BESTREWN  TRIP 

have  a  reliable  and  honest  government  mule,  if  that  will 
do  you." 

"Trot  out  your  mule,  that's  good  enough ;  I'm  ready  to 
start  at  any  time." 

At  dark  the  scout  was  on  his  way  for  Fort  Larned. 
Thirty  miles  out  he  dismounted  at  a  creek  to  drink.  He 
had  neglected  to  tie  the  lariat  from  the  mule's  bridle  to 
his  belt  and  the  animal  jerked  loose,  started  down  the 
creek  at  a  trot.  Try  as  he  might,  Cody  could  never  over- 
take the  beast.  He  coaxed  and  threatened  to  no  advan- 
tage, and  stranger  yet,  the  mule  struck  the  trail  for  Fort 
Larned  and  kept  to  it  with  the  maddened  scout  walking  on 
behind.  Mile  after  mile  this  kept  up. 

When  day  broke  Cody  was  plodding  on  behind  the  jog- 
ging mule.  "Damn  your  tantalizing  hide,  take  that,"  and 
a  ball  from  Cody's  rifle  brought  the  recalcitrant  mule  to 
sorrow. 

Continuing  on,  Cody  walked  to  the  Fort,  where  he  de- 
livered his  messages,  secured  a  new  mount  and  the  morn- 
ing after  reported  back  to  General  Sheridan.  Altogether 
he  had  ridden  and  walked  three  hundred  and  fifty-five 
miles  within  fifty-eight  riding  hours,  a  long  and  danger- 
bestrewn  trip. 

[79] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Cody,"  General  Sheridan  said,  after .  warmly  compli- 
menting him  on  his  remarkable  feat,  "the  Fifth  Cavalry 
is  going  on  an  expedition  against  the  Dog  Soldier  Indians 
— in  recognition  of  your  good  and  faithful  work,  I  hereby 
appoint  you  as  guide  and  chief  of  scouts  with  the  com- 
mand." 


[so] 


A    TYPICAL    COWBOY   AND    HIS    CHARGER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SUMMIT  SPRINGS. 


ALF-PAST  nine  and  all's  well,"  rang  a  sen- 
try's voice.  Then  there  was  a  pause,  the 
outpost  next  made  no  sound.  "What  the 
divil's  the  matter  wid  that  other  sentry?" 
asked  an  Irish  sergeant  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry, 
"why  don't  he  answer?" 

Fully  ten  minutes  went  by  and  still  no  sound.  The 
sergeant  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  cautiously  along  the 
river  bank  to  investigate.  There  was  a  rustle  in  the  brush, 
then  he  heard  the  tread  of  the  sentry.  The  sergeant 
called  out,  "Hallo  there,  why  didn't  ye  answer  the  call?" 
and  still  getting  no  response,  rode  on  over  to  where  the 
sentry  stood.  It  was  one  of  the  Pawnee  Indians  that  had 
joined  the  expedition  as  scouts,  under  Major  Frank 
North.  There  were  several  companies  of  them,  and  on  ac- 
count of  their  excellent  work  they  had  been  enrolled  in  the 

[81] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

regular  army  and  assigned  to  many  of  the  white  soldiers' 
duties. 

That  the  Pawnees,  who  were  the  deadly  enemies  of  the 
Sioux,  were  splendid  warriors  and  rendered  invaluable 
aid  to  the  Fifth  Cavalry  was  apparent,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  was  equally  apparent  that  the  Pawnees  had  a  hard 
time  to  master  the  English  language  and  grow  accustomed 
to  the  usages  and  routine  of  the  regular  army. 

"Hey,  there,  ye  divil,"  exclaimed  the  sergeant,  "why 
didn't  you  answer  that  call.  That's  what  you're  out  here 
for,  when  we  hear  ye  say  'all's  well,'  we  know  that  the 
enemy  isn't  at  hand." 

"Me  forget — very  hard  for  me  to  do  that,"  answered 
the  Pawnee  scout. 

"See  that  you  don't  forget  again — say  something  when 
the  sentry  next  to  you  passes  the  word.  Don't  forget, 
now,"  and  the  sergeant  rode  away. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  sentry  cried : 

"Post  number  one,  ten  o'clock,  and  all's  well." 

A  minute's  pause  and  then  in  no  certain  tones  the 
Pawnee  shouted : 

"Poss  number  half-pass  five  cents — go  to  hell — I  don't 


[82] 


PAWNEES  ON  PARADE 

There  was  a  rumble  of  laughter  from  the  men.  The 
system  was  found  impractical,  and  the  Pawnee  scouts 
were  thereafter  relieved  from  sentry  duty.  This  was  not 
the  only  laugh  that  the  hard-fighting  Pawnees  gave  their 
white  soldier  friends.  While  the  Fifth  Cavalry  was  at 
Fort  McPherson  awaiting  the  completing  of  its  equipment, 
a  general  dress  parade  was  ordered,  and  the  Indian  scouts 
were  in  their  glory.  It  was  the  first  opportunity  that  they 
had  had  to  display  themselves  in  the  full  regalia  of  a 
soldier  of  Uncle  Sam.  When  the  bugle  sounded  for  the 
review  the  Pawnees  appeared  dressed  as  if  for  a  scene  in 
comic  opera.  Some  of  them  had  on  their  heavy  overcoats, 
others  large  black  hats,  with  all  the  brass  accoutrements 
attached.  Others  wore  the  regulation  pants  but  had  no 
shirts  and  were  bareheaded.  Others  again  had  the  seat  of 
the  pants  cut  out,  leaving  only  leggings;  some  of  them 
wore  brass  spurs,  but  had  on  no  boots  or  moccasins. 

Despite  all  this,  they  were  good  soldiers,  hard  riders, 
crack  shots  and  desperate  fighters.  The  order  was  given 
and  the  command  moved  on  up  the  Republican  River.  The 
next  morning  shots  were  heard  along  with  the  whoops 
of  Indians  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mule  herd  which  had  been 
taken  down  to  water. 

tit] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Indians  are  there!"  shouted  a  herder  as  he  staggered 
into  camp  with  an  arrow  sticking  in  his  shoulder. 

Cody  was  mounted  in  a  second,  and  followed  by  a  band 
of  the  Pawnees,  made  for  the  watering  place.  It  took 
only  a  few  seconds  of  fighting  to  disperse  the  attacking 
party.  A  running  fight  of  fifteen  miles  was  engaged  in, 
resulting  in  several  of  the  marauding  Indians  being  killed. 
It  was  during  the  chase  that  Buffalo  Bill,  mounted  on  one 
of  the  fleetest  of  horses,  was  overtaken  and  passed  by  a 
Pawnee,  who  was  riding  one  of  the  swiftest  animals  that 
Cody  had  ever  seen.  After  the  fight  Bill  swapped  his 
horse,  some  tobacco  and  other  trinkets  and  secured  the 
Indian's  horse,  which  he  named  "Buckskin  Joe." 

The  Pawnees  had  been  sent  out  to  kill  fresh  meat  and 
soon  had  a  herd  of  buffaloes  surrounded,  there  were 
twenty  Indians  in  the  party,  and  in  all  they  killed  thirty 
animals.  Just  then  another  herd  hove  in  sight,  Cody 
dashed  away  and  in  a  very  short  time  had  strewn  thirty- 
six  bison  along  a  half  mile  of  prairie  single  handed.  The 
Indians  after  this  held  the  scout  in  the  very  highest  esteem. 

The  command  moved  on  up  the  Republican  River.  In- 
dian tracks  were  found  which  Cody  discovered  were  made 
by  the  Sioux.  He  was  sent  out  with  a  small  party  of 

[84] 


SOUND  THE  CHARGE! 

Pawnees  to  try  to  locate  the  band.  The  day  after  Buffalo 
Bill  came  on  fresh  tracks  and  was  astounded  upon  close 
examination  to  discover  the  imprints  of  a  woman's  shoe. 
Word  was  sent  to  General  Carr.  Orders  were  issued  for 
a  forced  march. 

Cody  was  then  about  ten  miles  in  advance  of  the  army. 
He  saw  that  he  was  nearing  the  village  of  the  Indians, 
and  sent  word  back  for  extreme  caution  to  be  exercised. 
Keeping  the  command  wholly  out  of  sight  until  it  was 
within  a  mile  of  the  Indian  village,  Carr  commanded  the 
soldiers  to  close  up,  and  at  his  order  make  a  dash  for  the 
village. 

"Sound  the  charge,"  General  Carr  called  out — but  the 
bugler  was  struck  dumb  with  fear  at  the  sight  of  hun- 
dreds of  Indians.  Again  the  General  issued  the  order, 
but  the  bugler  could  get  no  command  of  his  lips. 

"I'll  do  it,"  shouted  Quartermaster  Hays,  seizing  the 
bugle,  sounding  the  charge,  tossing  the  horn  away  and 
grasping  a  revolver  in  each  hand,  sprang  out  with  the 
leader. 

The  Indians  had  just  driven  up  their  horses  and  were 
preparing  to  break  camp  when  they  heard  the  bugle  notes 
and  saw  the  soldiers  rushing  down  upon  them.  Many 

[85] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

succeeded  in  getting  to  their  ponies  and  fled  in  precipitate 
haste,  others  leaving  everything  behind  in  the  camp  ad- 
vanced out  of  the  village,  and  with  true  Sioux  determina- 
tion prepared  to  meet  the  attacking  party  of  whites. 

On  came  the  soldiers,  yelling  and  shooting,  they  stopped 
for  nothing,  but  plunging  straight  through  the  camp  they 
left  a  trail  of  dead  and  wounded  on  every  side.  Buffalo 
Bill  was  engaged  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict,  when  above 
the  din  and  roar  of  battle  he  heard  a  woman  scream.  A 
quick  thrust  with  his  knife  and  his  Indian  antagonist 
rolled  to  the  ground  writhing  in  agony.  Cody  broke  for 
the  teepee  whence  the  screams  came.  He  reached  there 
just  in  time  to  save  one  of  the  white  captives  from  being 
tomahawked  by  the  squaw  of  Tall-Bull. 

The  captive,  though  badly  wounded,  told  that  she  and 
another  woman  had  been  taken  prisoners  after  the  Indians 
had  robbed  and  killed  all  the  male  whites  of  a  settlement 
not  far  away.  The  other  woman  had  been  slain  by  the 
squaw  just  as  the  soldiers  entered  the  village. 

By  orders  of  General  Carr,  all  the  effects  of  the  Indians 
were  burned,  the  injured  woman  was  taken  under  care 
by  the  surgeons.  Cody  rode  on  to  reconnoiter.  The  Sioux 
were  not  long  in  gathering  together  their  scattered  forces 

[86] 


CODY  KILLS  CHIEF 

and  returned  to  battle  the  whites.  Buffalo  Bill  was  on  the 
skirmish  line  and  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  fight.  One 
Indian  in  particular  seemed  to  be  the  chief  and  it  was  the 
following  out  of  his  orders  that  led  to  disaster  for  the 
soldiers.  Cody  determined  to  put  a  stop  to  his  career.  Dis- 
mounting from  his  horse  the  brave  scout  crept  to  a  ravine 
where  he  could  command  a  better  view,  though  placing 
himself  in  greater  peril. 

The  chief  dashed  by  and  yelled  commands  in  his  lan- 
guage. Cody  could  understand  enough  to  let  him  know 
that  the  chief  was  urging  his  people  to  make  it  a  do-or-die 
affair,  and  just  then  the  scout's  rifle  cracked.  The  Indian 
rolled  to  the  dirt.  He  had  been  mounted  on  an  excellent 
horse  which,  as  soon  as  he  was  riderless,  in  place  of  turning 
back  to  the  Indians,  made  straightway  for  the  soldiers  and 
was  captured.  In  token  of  the  shot  he  had  made  the 
horse  was  presented  to  Buffalo  Bill.  The  fallen  Indian 
proved  to  be  Tall  Bull,  one  of  the  most  wicked  of  all 
the  Sioux  chiefs. 

That  ended  the  battle.  For  his  noble  work  General  Carr 
received  a  vote  of  thanks,  as  did  Buffalo  Bill,  from  the 
Legislatures  of  both  Nebraska  and  Colorado.  Not  long 
after  this  Buffalo  Bill  met  for  the  first  time  Col.  E.  B.  C. 

[87] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Judson,  known  better  as  Ned  Buntline,  a  famous  writer. 
Buntline  became  very  much  interested  in  the  great  scout, 
effects  of  which  were  to  manifest  themselves  at  a  later 
date.  In  the  Spring  of  1871  General  Emory,  who  was 
then  in  command  of  Fort  McPherson,  called  Cody  to  his 
quarters. 

"Cody,  there  has  been  so  much  petty  deviltry  going  on 
in  this  neighborhood  that  I  want  it  stopped,"  he  said, 
"and  the  best  way  that  I  knew  was  to  get  an  appointment 
for  you  as  justice  of  the  peace." 

"General,  you  compliment  me  too  highly,"  Cody  replied, 
blushing;  "I  don't  know  anything  more  about  law  than  a 
government  mule  does  about  bookkeeping." 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  he  said,  "you  will 
make  a  good  squire." 

And  so  he  did.  For  several  weeks  he  busied  himself 
with  the  various  things  that  came  to  him  under  his  new 
routine  of  duties.  Finally  he  was  called  upon  to  perform 
a  marriage  ceremony.  The  bridegroom  was  one  of  the 
sergeants  of  the  company.  This  was  a  stunner  to  the 
scout.  He  looked  through  all  the  available  books  at  hand 
to  find  the  mode  of  procedure,  but  nothing  came  to  his 
rescue.  Finally  he  picked  up  the  "Statutes  of  the  State 

[88] 


+f% 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  LIFE  OF  BUFFALO  BILL. 
From  Original  Sketches. 


CODY  A  "MARRYING  PARSON'' 

of  Nebraska,"  thinking  possibly  somewhere  there  he  would 
find  instruction — he  looked  in  vain.  The  time  approached 
for  the  wedding  and  nothing  daunted,  Cody  determined  to 
do  the  very  best  he  could. 

"Do  you  take  this  woman  to  be  your  lawful  wife?"  he 
said  bravely,  when  the  pair  stood  before  him,  "and  prom- 
ise to  support  and  love  her  through  life?" 

"I  do,"  was  the  reply. 

Then  he  repeated  the  question  to  the  young  woman ;  she 
answered  in  a  manner  that  was  satisfactory. 

"Then  join  hands — I  now  pronounce  you  to  be  man  and 
wife,  and  whomsoever  God  and  Buffalo  Bill  have  joined 
together  let  no  man  put  asunder.  May  you  live  long  and 
prosper.  Amen." 


[89] 


I 


CHAPTER  IX. 
ENTERTAINS  ROYALTY  AT  BUFFALO  HUNT. 


BOUT  the  first  of  January,  1872,  General 
Forsyth  journeyed  to  Fort  McPherson  to 
make  preparations  for  a  big  buffalo  hunt 
at  which  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  of  Russia 
was  to  be  the  chief  guest  of  honor.  Cody  in- 
formed him  that  there  were  plenty  of  buffaloes  in  the 
vicinity,  especially  on  the  Red  Willow,  sixty  miles  away. 
Buffalo  Bill  was  commissioned  by  the  representatives  of 
General  Sheridan,  who  was  arranging  the  hunt,  to  visit 
Spotted  Tail's  camp,  one  of  the  Sioux  warriors, 
located  somewhere  on  Frenchman's  Fork,  nearly  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Fort  McPherson.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  visit  was  to  induce  about  a  hundred  of  the 
Indian  warriors  and  chiefs  to  come  to  the  Grand  Duke's 
camp,  so  that  the  latter  could  see  the  Indians  and  observe 
the  manner  in  which  they  killed  buffaloes. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Cody  guided  the  party  to  Red  Willow  with  a  small 
escort  of  armed  men,  and  left  them  there  while  he  pro- 
ceeded alone.  The  weather  was  very  cold,  there  was 
more  or  less  danger  from  the  Indians,  for  although  Spotted 
Tail  himself  was  friendly,  it  might  prove  a  dangerous 
task  to  enter  the  camp.  As  he  had  during  the  past  few 
years  made  many  enemies  among  the  Sioux  in  the  differ- 
ent battles,  there  was  a  possibility  of  meeting  them  at 
any  time. 

From  fresh  horse  tracks  and  the  dead  buffaloes  lying 
here  and  there,  Cody  knew  that  he  was  nearing  Spotted 
Tail's  camp.  He  rode  on  a  few  miles  farther,  then  hiding 
his  horse  in  a  low  ravine,  crawled  up  a  high  hill  where  he 
had  a  good  view  of  his  surroundings.  Four  or  five  miles 
straight  ahead  he  saw  a  number  of  Indian  ponies  and 
knew  that  the  camp  must  be  near  by.  Waiting  until  night- 
fall, he  mounted  and  rode  into  the  camp  unobserved. 

Cody  wrapped  a  blanket  around  his  head,  leaving  just 
enough  room  to  see,  and  rode  around  until  he  found  the 
chiefs  tent,  then  dismounting  threw  back  the  flap  and  en- 
tered. He  was  cordially  greeted.  Spotted  Tail,  when  he 
knew  the  request  came  from  General  Sheridan,  accepted 
the  invitation. 

[92] 


MEETS  GRAND  DUKE 

Next  morning  the  chiefs  and  warriors  were  assembled 
according  to  orders,  and  to  them  was  stated  the  object  of 
the  scout's  visit. 

"Do  you  know  who  this  man  is?"  asked  Spotted  Tail, 
pointing  to  Cody. 

"Yes,  we  know  him  well,"  replied  one,  "that  is  Pa-he- 
haska  (which  means  long  hair  in  the  Sioux  language), 
that  is  our  old  enemy." 

"That  is  he,"  returned  Spotted  Tail,"  I  want  all  our 
people  to  be  kind  to  him  and  treat  him  as  my  friend." 

Cody  returned  to  Red  Willow.  Great  preparations  were 
being  made  for  the  hunt.  Everything  was  finally  in  readi- 
ness, when  on  the  morning  of  January  12, 1872,  the  Grand 
Duke  and  his  suite  arrived  at  North  Platte  by  special  train, 
Cody  and  a  delegation  of  soldiers  were  at  the  train  to 
meet  them. 

"Cody,"  General  Sheridan  said,  "this  is  the  Grand 
Duke  Alexis.  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  take  charge  of 
him,  and  show  how  you  kill  buffaloes."  General  Custer 
was  one  of  the  party  that  witnessed  the  war  dance  given  by 
the  Indians  that  night.  Morning  broke  with  a  fine  sun 
shining  warmly.  Just  as  the  party  were  about  to  start 

[93] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

for  the  hunting  grounds  some  one  came  up  to  Cody  and 
said  that  Mr.  Thompson  did  not  have  a  horse. 

"What  Thompson?"  asked  Cody. 

"Why,  Mr.  Frank  Thompson,  who  has  charge  of  the 
Duke's  train." 

Cody  had  following  him  "Buckskin  Joe,"  his  celebrated 
war  horse.  This  animal  was  not  a  very  prepossessing 
thing  to  look  at.  He  was  buckskin  in  color,  and  rather  a 
sorry-looking  animal,  but  was  known  all  over  the  fron- 
tier as  the  greatest  long-distance  and  best  buffalo  horse 
living.  Cody  had  never  allowed  anyone  but  himself  to 
ride  this  horse,  but  as  he  had  none  other  there  at  the  time 
he  ordered  it  bridled  and  saddled,  and  told  Mr.  Thompson 
he  could  ride  him  until  another  could  be  secured. 

This  horse  looked  so  different  from  the  beautiful  ani- 
mals that  the  rest  of  the  party  were  supplied  with  that 
Thompson  thought  it  rather  discourteous  to  mount  him  in 
such  fashion. .  As  Thompson  rode  past  the  wagons  and 
the  ambulances  he  noticed  the  teamsters  pointing  at  him, 
and  thinking  they  were  guying  him,  he  rode  up  to  one  of 
them. 

"Am  I  not  riding  this  horse  all  right?"  he  asked. 

[94] 


BETTER  TRY  MINE 

Thompson  felt  some  personal  pride  in  his  horsemanship 
ability. 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  driver  replied,  "you  are  riding  all  right." 

"Well,  then,"  Thompson  said,  "it  must  be  the  horse 
that  you  men  are  guying." 

"Guying  that  horse!"  the  teamster  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise. "Not  in  a  thousand  years." 

"Well,  then,  why  am  I  such  a  conspicuous  object?" 

"Why,  sir,  aren't  you  the  king?" 

"The  king — why  do  you  take  me  for  the  king?" 

"Because  you  are  riding  that  horse.  I  guess  you  don't 
know  what  horse  you  are  riding,  do  you?  Nobody  gets 
to  ride  that  horse  but  Buffalo  Bill.  So  when  we  all  saw 
you  riding  him  we  supposed  of  course  that  you  were  the 
king,  for  that  horse,  sir,  is  Buckskin  Joe." 

Thompson  felt  relieved,  and  afterwards  thanked  Cody 
for  the  honor  of  allowing  him  such  a  mount. 

It  was  planned  that  the  Grand  Duke  was  to  have  the 
first  shot.  The  nobleman  elected  to  use  his  pistol.  At  the 
first  sight  of  the  herd  the  Russian  galloped  at  them,  firing 
six  times  without  scoring  a  hit. 

"Better  try  mine,"  Cody  suggested,  handing  over  his 
revolver.  But  the  next  six  shots  went  as  before,  and  Cody 

[951 


THRILLING  LIVES 

seeing  that  the  herd  would  get  away  from  them  rode  to 
the  Duke's  side. 

"Take  my  rifle  and  I'll  give  you  the  word  when  to 
shoot."  The  nobleman  was  now  mounted  on  Buckskin 
Joe,  and  as  he  took  the  gun  Cody  swatted  the  animal, 
Joe  gave  a  jump  and  took  the  Duke  to  the  buffaloes' 
side. 

"Now's  your  time,"  shouted  Buffalo  Bill,  and  the  Rus- 
sian fired,  killing  his  first  buffalo.  Afterwards,  on  the  re- 
turn to  camp,  Alexis  shot  a  buffalo  with  his  pistol ;  it  was 
either  a  remarkably  good  shot  or  a  scratch,  but  none  of 
the  party  cared  which,  and  the  Duke  was  given  a  rousing 
cheer. 

One  day  the  Duke  asked  Cody  to  get  the  Indians  out 
for  a  buffalo  hunt.  Spotted  Tail  selected  several  of  his 
best  hunters,  armed  them  with  bows  and  arrows  and  had 
them  surround  a  herd,  bringing  the  animals  down  with 
arrows  and  also  lances. 

"I  will  show  you  a  remarkable  shot,"  Cody  said  a  second 
later,  calling  upon  an  Indian  named  Two  Lance  to  do  one 
of  the  most  difficult  feats  that  has  ever  been  accom- 
plished with  bow  and  arrow.  The  Indian  rode  into  the 
herd  and  with  string  pulled  tight  sent  an  arrow  straight 

[96] 


THEFAMOUS  GENERAISQFTHEU.S.ARMY 

BUFFALO  BILL       ER 


THRILLING  STAGE  DRIVE 

through  a  buffalo's  body.  The  arrow  was  given  to  the 
Duke  as  a  souvenir.  Buffalo  Bill  astounded  the  Royal 
party  by  his  own  expertness  with  rifle  and  pistol. 

"Get  in  here,  Cody,"  General  Sheridan  said  on  the 
way  back,  "and  show  the  Duke  how  you  can  drive  a  stage 
coach."  It  was  a  thrilling  run  with  the  General  and  his 
royal  friend  hanging  on  all  the  time. 

"How  was  that?"  the  Duke  was  asked  when  the  horses 
came  to  a  stop. 

"Very  fine,  but  I  prefer  to  go  a  little  slower,"  he  re- 
plied smiling. 

The  hunt  had  been  a  great  success  and  Buffalo  Bill  was 
warmly  complimented  by  General  Sheridan. 

"By  the  way,  Bill,"  Sheridan  said,  "you  have  an  invita- 
tion from  several  of  the  gentlemen  who  were  on  the  hunt 
with  us  at  Hays  City,  to  visit  New  York;  you  will  never 
have  a  better  time  than  now.  Write  a  letter  to  General 
Stage,  of  Chicago,  and  he  will  send  you  a  pass.  I  have 
had  a  talk  with  General  Ord  and  he  will  give  you  a  leave 
of  absence  whenever  you  are  ready  to  start." 

"Thank  you,  General." 

General  Ord  granted  the  leave  readily,  and  as  Buffalo 
Bill  was  stepping  out  of  the  room  he  said : 

[97] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Cody,  how  would  you  like  a  commission  in  the  regular 
army?  General  Sheridan  and  I  have  been  talking  the 
matter  over  and  it  can  be  arranged  for  you  without  any 
trouble." 

"I  am  much  obliged,  General,  but  I  guess  just  being  a 
plain  scout  is  good  enough  for  me." 

Cody  was  received  in  the  East  with  open  arms ;  he  was 
a  guest  of  honor  at  many  homes,  and  time  flew  by  very 
rapidly.  It  was  the  first  trip  East,  but  his  reputation  had 
preceded  him,  he  was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and  mightily 
embarrassed  to  be  stared  at  from  morning  until  night. 
Among  the  entertainments  prepared  for  the  great  scout 
was  an  invitation  to  a  very  exclusive  masked  ball.  The 
very  best  of  society  was  there.  Its  brilliance  dazzled 
Cody. 

"What  did  you  think  of  that?"  he  was  asked  the  next 
day. 

"Reminds  me  of  an  Indian  war-dance,"  he  naively 
replied. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  he  visited  the  theatre  for 
the  first  time.  The  play  on  the  boards  was  a  border  drama 
called  "Buffalo  Bill."  As  soon  as  the  audience  recognized 

[98] 


WE  NEED  You! 

him  sitting  in  a  box,  there  was  a  shout  and  cheers  and 
calls  for  a  speech. 

"I'll  give  you  five  hundred  dollars  if  you  will  play  the 
leading  role,"  the  manager  said. 

"Not  on  your  life,"  blushed  the  bashful  Cody.  At  thae 
time  he  would  rather  have  faced  a  thousand  warriors  on 
the  plains  than  gone  on  the  stage  before  all  those  people. 

A  few  days  after  Cody  met  General  Sheridan. 

"Bill,  are  you  having  a  good  time?" 

"Say,  General,  this  is  the  best  camp  I  ever  struck — my 
furlough  is  about  up;  couldn't  you  extend  it  about  ten 
days?" 

"Yes,  gladly;  but  after  that  Cody,  you  must  get  back 
to  Fort  McPherson,  there  is  to  be  an  expedition  sent  out 
and  we  will  need  you  there." 


[99] 


CHAPTER   X. 


PAWNEE  BILL'S  BOYHOOD  DAYS. 

AY,  are  you  Trapper  Tom  Evans?" 

"Yes,  young  fellow,  what  do  you  want?" 
the  other  answered  coldly. 

"Just  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  work 
for  you." 

"The  deuce  you  say." 
"When  do  I  begin?" 

"By  thunder  I  like  your  nerve,  never  saw  you  in  my 
life  before  and  now  you  just  make  up  your  mind  to  go  to 
work   for  me   without    asking    any    one's    permission. 
Where'd  you  come  from?" 
"Ran  away  from  home." 
"How  did  you  get  down  here  in  Oklahoma?" 
"Walked  most  of  the  way." 
"What  for?" 
"Looking  for  work." 

[101] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Gordon  W.  Lillie." 

"Can  you  shoot?" 

"Some." 

"Ride?" 

"Some." 

"Got  any  grit?" 

"Some." 

"Alright,  we'll  try  you  out." 

Gordon  was  at  this  time  a  lad  of  seventeen,  of 
sturdy  figure,  frank  in  manner,  sharp  blue  eyes,  and  a  chin 
that  stood  for  determination.  He  was  born  in  Blooming- 
ton,  Illinois,  February  14,  1860.  Newton  W.  Lillie,  his 
father,  owned  one  of  the  largest  flour  mills  in  the  city  and 
was  very  prosperous.  Gordon  received  a  high  school  edu- 
cation. The  family  had  planned  that  the  lad  was  one  day 
to  go  into  the  mill  and  eventually  succeed  to  the  business. 
But  the  youngster  had  plans  of  his  own,  he  was  just  in  the 
impressionable  age  and  he  did  what  most  high-spirited  self- 
willed  young  men  would  have  done  under  the  circum- 
stances. He  ran  away  from  home. 

Tales  of  the  West  had  inspired  fanciful  dreams  of  easily 
gotten  wealth  and  it  was  quest  of  that  rather  than  a 

[102] 


RUNS  AWAY 

bloodthirsty  desire  to  fight  Indians  that  prompted  Gordon 
W.  Lillie  to  hazard  Fate  in  unknown  lands. 

Just  about  this  time  the  father  conceived  the  plan  of 
moving  to  Kansas  and  erecting  there  the  first  flour  mill  in 
the  southeastern  part  of  the  state.  With  his  wife,  Susan 
Ann  Lillie,  one  son,  Albert,  and  two  daughters,  Newton 
Lillie  started  for  the  south.  From  Bloomington  the 
journey  was  made  by  train  to  Wichita  and  then  to  Well- 
ington by  wagon. 

"Mother/'  Gordon  said  when  alone  with  her,  "I  am  not 
going  with  you  and  the  family." 

"My  son,"  exclaimed  she  in  surprise,  "you  must  not  be 
foolish,  come." 

"No,  mother,  I  am  going  to  strike  out  for  myself,  and 
see  if  I  can't  make  my  way  alone." 

The  mother  pleaded  in  vain  for  a  long  time,  then  seeing 
that  the  lad  was  determined  and  knowing  his  nature  con- 
sented to  his  leaving. 

"Promise  me,  Gordon,"  she  said,  "that  no  matter  where 
you  are  or  what  you  are  doing,  that  you  will  always  think 
first  of  me  and  whether  I  would  be  proud  of  your  under- 
taking. Promise  me  that  you  will  think  twice  before  you 
act,  that  you  will  always  help  the  weak,  be  generous  with 

[103] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

those  that  are  deserving,  avoid  trouble.  You  are  going 
into  strange  lands,  you  will  be  a  stranger,  you  will  find 
temptations  of  all  kinds,  do  not  gamble  and  do  not  drink. 
Do  you  promise?" 

"I  do,  mother." 

Gordon  a  few  days  after  loitered  along  the  main  street 
in  Wichita ;  it  suited  his  fancy,  there  were  cowboys,  gam- 
blers and  the  motley  throng  incident  to  border  towns  in  the 
early  days. 

For  a  week  the  experiences  he  was  injected  into  inter- 
ested him,  it  was  something  new,  something  out  of  the  rut 
of  home  life,  and  for  the  first  time  he  commenced  to  realize 
that  he  was  thrown  on  his  own  resources,  that  he  had  his 
own  battle  to  fight.  He  made  friends  quickly.  His  jovial 
good  nature  installed  him  as  a  general  favorite. 

"Hello  son,  you  look  lonesome,"  a  burly  cowpuncher 
said  one  night  as  Lillie  was  watching  a  play  at  cards  in 
the  "Good  Luck"  gambling  house,  "have  a  drink." 

"Never  touch  it." 

"Come  on  have  a  drink  I  say,"  and  the  bully  edged  close 
to  him,  "you  tenderf eet  can't  learn  to  be  men  any  younger ; 
hurry  up,  barkeeper,  give  Mother's  baby  a  drink.  I'm 
going  to  make  a  man  of  him." 


MEETS  DESPERADO 

It  might  be  noted  here,  that  to  refuse  the  hospitality 
such  as  was  offered,  constituted  about  as  deadly  an  insult 
as  could  be  given.  Of  course,  Gordon  did  not  know  this 
or  if  he  did  he  didn't  care. 

"Go  on  Kid,  humor  him,"  whispered  a  bystander  "take 
a  drink." 

Before  Lillie  had  a  chance  to  move  one  way  or  the 
other,  the  drunken  cowboy  dealt  him  a  terrific  blow  in  the 
face.  Gordon  caught  himself  on  the  bar  railing,  steadied 
for  a  moment  and  then  planted  his  fist  square  on  the  cow- 
boy's nose. 

The  latter  reeled  and  tumbled  to  the  floor  senseless. 

"Holy  smoke,  Kid  run,  he'll  kill  you,"  yelled  the  bar- 
tender. 

"I  guess  not,"  calmly  replied  Lillie,  adjusting  his  coat. 

"Come  on  get  away  before  he  comes  to,  don't  you  know 
who  that  is?"  pointing  to  the  figure  on  the  floor,  now 
slowly  moving  in  a  struggle  to  regain  his  feet. 

"No,  and  I  don't  give  a  damn,  I  guess  if  there  is  to  be 
any  education  of  tenderfeet  around  here  I'll  take  a  hand 
in  the  teaching." 

"Got  a  gun?" 

"No." 

[105] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Take  this  one  and  look  out,  you're  a  game  boy,  but 
you're  going  against  a  tough  proposition  when  you  snag 
'gainst  Trigger  Jim/  " 

Lillie  shoved  the  gun  back  as  the  cowboy  was  getting  to 
his  feet. 

"What  in  hell  fell  on  me,"  muttered  Trigger  Jim,  wip- 
ing the  blood  from  his  face,  then  seeing  Lillie,  "oh,  yes, 
it  was  you  wasn't  it,"  and  reached  for  his  pistol.  Gordon 
was  too  quick,  he  pounced  on  him  like  a  panther,  both 
rolled  to  the  floor,  a  smashing  thud  and  Trigger  lay  quiet. 

"Guess  he'll  be  good  now  for  a  while,"  mused  Lillie. 

With  the  first  sign  of  the  struggle,  the  gambling  stopped, 
one  or  two  of  the  players  ducked  behind  the  tables,  others 
used  the  stove  as  a  shield  to  protect  them  from  the  bullets 
that  everyone  expected  to  see  fly  when  Trigger  Jim  got  up 
the  first  time.  He  was  a  genuine  bad  man. 

"Say  sonny  you're  alright,  but  take  my  tip  and  scoot, 
that  fellow  is  a  bad  actor  and  you're  made  of  too  good 
stuff  to  carry  a  pound  or  so  of  his  lead  around  in  your 
hide  as  a  souvenir." 

Gordon  listened  to  the  well-intentioned  advice. 

"Any  way,"  he  mused  going  through  the  doors,  "guess 
I  don't  want  too  much  excitement  for  a  starter.  This  town 

[106] 


LILLIE  WON'T  GAMBLE 

seems  to  be  able  to  accommodate  a  fellow  with  most  any 
kind  of  trouble  he  isn't  looking  for." 

He  jogged  down  the  street.  The  whole  town  was  in  a 
buzz,  every  second  building  was  a  saloon  and  gambling 
house.  Men  of  all  creeds  and  classes  jostled  each  other, 
beneath  every  coat  on  the  right  hand  side  rearwards  was 
the  usual  hump  that  bespoke  a  shooting  iron,  and  there 
were  many  with  notched  handles.  It  was  too  early  to  go 
to  bed.  He  strolled  into  another  saloon,  walked  over  to  a 
faro  table  and  sat  down  to  watch  the  play.  It  was  exciting 
and  the  hum  and  whirr  of  it  all  suited  the  lad  to  a  dot. 
Stacks  of  money  were  seen  everywhere,  gold  and  silver 
in  more  quantities  than  he  ever  dreamt  existed.  The  dealer 
was  called  Lame  Bill,  a  wheezened  old  man  with  only  one 
eye.  He  nodded  to  Lillie. 

"Want  a  stack?" 

"No,  never  play." 

Several  of  the  gamblers  looked  up,  one  or  two  laughed 
and  the  play  went  on. 

"What  do  those  dealers  make  a  day  ?"  Gordon  asked  an 
onlooker. 

"Eight  to  ten  dollars,  some  of  'em  get  more  when  the 
boss  aint  looking." 

"Pretty  risky  stealing  aint  it?" 

[107] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Sometimes — if  they  get  caught — Old  Bill  there  is 
dead  square — he  ain't  got  enough  education  to  be  crooked. 
Have  a  drink?" 

"No  thanks,  just  had  one."  Gordon  smiled  to  him- 
self. He  sat  there  for  an  hour,  the  heat,  the  tobacco  smoke 
and  the  liquor-  fumes  made  him  drowsy.  He  fell  asleep. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  crash  and  loud  swearing.  Gordon 
awoke  with  a  start.  All  was  in  confusion,  the  play  had 
stopped,  men  scurried  under  cover.  Several  pistol  shots 
rang  out.  From  where  he  was  behind  the  stove  Gordon 
could  not  see  the  front  part  of  the  saloon. 

"What's  happened,"  he  asked  a  fellow  crouching  beside 
him. 

"Shut  up,"  the  other  whispered.  "It's  Trigger  Jim 
fuller  than  a  beer  keg  and  he's  looking  for  some  one." 

It  didn't  take  Lillie  long  to  figure  out  the  object  of  the 
ruffian's  search.  He  sat  quiet. 

"Where  is  he,  that  infernal  young  tenderfoot?"  roared 
Jim. 

"He  ain't  here,  Jim,"  declared  the  bartender  from  a 
safe  hiding  place  behind  a  pile  of  barrels,  "he  went  out 
five  minutes  ago." 

"It's  a  lie,  he  thinks  he  can  lick  me,  I'll  show  him,  I'll 
[108] 


JIM'S  GIRL  PLEADS 

show  you  all  there  ain't  no  man  living  what  can  lick 
Trigger  Jim." 

Bang!  bang,  and  the  bullets  from  the  maddened  cow- 
boy's pistol  shattered  the  back  bar  mirror.  No  one  stirred. 
Trigger  was  too  well  known,  his  aim  was  too  quick  and 
deadly  for  anyone  to  foolishly  try  to  pacify  him  in  his 
frenzy.  The  crowd  figured  that  when  he  had  given  vent 
to  his  spleen  he  would  leave.  Just  then  a  woman  opened 
the  doors.  It  was  Jim's  girl. 

"Come  on  home,  Jim/'  she  urged. 

"Shut  up,  I'll  come  home  when  I  get  good  and  ready." 

The  woman  stood  still  in  the  doors  and  looked  at  him 
pleadingly. 

"Get  out  I  say  or  I'll  throw  you  out,"  raged  the  drunken 
cowboy,  lurching  toward  her  with  unsteady  step. 

"Jim  you're  crazy  drunk,  come  on  home." 

"Drunk  am  I  ?  Crazy  am  I  ?  Take  that,"  swinging  his 
clenched  fist  at  the  woman's  head.  She  fell  in  a  heap  and, 
unbalanced  by  the  momentum  of  his  blow,  he  tumbled  to 
the  floor  beside  her.  He  struggled  to  his  feet.  Lillie  had 
watched  the  brutal  assault,  no  one  raised  a  hand  to  help 
the  woman.  Lillie  was  at  the  cowboy's  side  in  a  second. 

"That  don't  go,  you  cur,"  he  said,  kicking  the  pistol  from 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Jim's  hand.  "No  hitting  women  when  I'm  around,"  and 
as  the  cowboy  rose  Lillie  dealt  him  a  smacking  blow,  send- 
ing him  half  way  across  the  room. 

"Boys,  take  care  of  the  woman,  and  when  that  bully 
comes  to,  tell  him  that  I'll  pull  his  nose  the  next  time  I 
see  him." 

The  crowd  was  struck  dumb  with  amazement.  Nbt  a 
word  was  spoken  as  he  pushed  through  the  swinging 
doors. 

"Guess  if  I  want  to  keep  out  of  really  thrashing  some 
one  to-night  I'd  better  go  to  bed,"  and  suiting  action  to 
the  word,  undressed  and  was  soon  fast  asleep.  Shortly 
before  daybreak  there  was  a  loud  knocking  on  his  door. 

"Who's  there?" 

"It's  Pete,  the  landlord,  open  up  quick."  As  soon  as 
Gordon  let  him  in,  he  continued,  "Say  Kid,  you've  got 
yourself  hooked  up  to  a  bunch  of  trouble." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Trigger  Jim  has  been  gunning  for  you  all  night — says 
he's  going  to  kill  you  on  sight — some  one  told  him  that 
you  were  stopping  here.  Get  up  and  get  out  quick,  it's 
your  only  chance." 

[no] 


AIM  STRAIGHT 

"He's  bluffing,  I  licked  him  twice  last  night,  he  don't 
want  any  more." 

"I  tell  you  he's  sober  now,  the  last  punching  you  gave 
him  did  it,  he  ain't  used  to  be  licked  by  anyone  and  it  hurt 
his  pride." 

"I  guess  his  nose  too,"  and  Lillie  smiled. 

"He  means  business  this  time  Kid,  you'd  better  get  away 
while  you  can."  Just  then  angry  talking  was  heard  down 
stairs. 

"Let  me  at  him,  it's  him  or  me  this  time,  I'll  shoot  at 
sight." 

There  was  no  mistaking,  Jim's  voice  or  the  sincerity  of 
his  intention.  Gordon  dressed  in  a  second. 

"Got  a  gun?"  asked  Pete. 

"No." 

"Take  mine,  slip  out  the  back  way,  when  you  see  him 
shoot,  or  he'll  get  you,"  and  added  Pete,  "do  the  town  a 
good  turn  by  aiming  straight,  now  go." 

It  didn't  take  the  news  long  to  spread  that  there  was  to 
be  a  shooting  match.  They  all  knew  Trigger  Jim's  ability 
and  from  what  they  had  seen  of  Lillie  the  night  before 
they  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  youngster  wasn't 
going  to  run  away.  In  times  like  this  everyone  found  it 


THRILLING^  LIVES 

safer  to  remain  until  one  or  the  other  got  his  man.  If  the 
inward  well  wishes  of  the  town  counted  for  anything 
Gordon  went  doubly  armed. 

"By  thunder,"  he  said  to  himself,  "things  are  moving 
lively  for  me,  I  come  for  work  and  get  astraddle  a  bunch 
of  trouble  that  would  nearly  make  a  fellow  quit,  and  here 
this  chap  is  insisting  on  decorating  a  grave  with  my  body. 
Guess  it  looks  like  business  this  time."  Quickly  examining 
the  revolver  and  testing  it  he  turned  the  corner,  gun  in  one 
hand,  his  coat  in  the  other.  It  was  not  yet  daylight,  a 
heavy  mist  gathered  and  deepened  the  slow  breaking  dawn. 
It  was  difficult  to  see  more  than  a  hundred  feet  ahead. 
Keen-eyed  and  ears  alert  Lillie  started  up  the  street.  Sud- 
denly a  head  popped  around  the  corner  and  then  jerked 
back  again. 

"As  I  thought,"  he  muttered,  "any  man  that  strikes  a 
woman  is  a  coward,  this  fellow  isn't  going  to  fight  in  the 
open." 

A  pistol  hammer  clicked. 

Then  a  dead  silence. 

Lillie  stopped,  he  could  hear  Jim  breathing.  He  was 
waiting  for  the  youngster  to  reach  the  corner.  Gordon 
made  up  his  own  mind  quickly. 

[112] 


THE  LATE  KING  EDWARD  VII. 
In  the  Wild  West  Camp  at  Olympia,  London,  England. 


THE  DUEL 

He  walked  straight  ahead,  until  within  ten  feet  of  the 
corner,  then  coughed,  and  threw  his  coat  straight  ahead, 
it  passed  the  corner  where  Jim  was  lying  in  wait. 

Bang,  and  a  flash  of  flame  spurted  from  Jim's  pistol. 

The  ruse  worked. 

"I  got  you,  you  little  pup,"  yelled  Jim  jumping  out  in  the 
open  as  he  saw  the  coat  fall. 

Then  seeing  how  he  had  been  tricked,  wheeled  and  fired 
point  blank  at  Lillie.  Two  shots  rang  out  at  the  same  in- 
stant. Trigger  Jim  pitched  headlong  to  the  street.  Lillie 
wiped  a  trickle  of  blood  from  his  own  ear  which  had  been 
creased  by  Jim's  bullet. 

Within  a  few  seconds  after  the  shooting  the  crowd  col- 
lected, they  found  Gordon  bending  over  Jim's  dead  body. 

"Guess  he's  dead,  boys ;  sorry,  but  I  had  to  do  it." 

"Gentlemen,"  the  sheriff  said,  who  had  in  the  meantime 
arrived,  and  heard  the  entire  story,  "the  first  twelve  of  you 
men  there  step  forward,  rest  of  you  stand  back.  That's  it 
now,  gentlemen  of  the  jury  this  young  feller  here  has  just 
pulled  a  killing  on  Trigger  Jim.  Is  he  guilty  or  not 
guilty?" 

"Not  guilty,"  came  the  answer  in  one  accord. 

tut] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Thank  you  men,  the  jury  is  discharged/'  the  sheriff 
said,  "some  of  you  fellers  dig  a  hole  back  yonder  and  do 
a  little  planting,  guess  where  Jim's  gone  it  won't  do  no 
good  to  have  the  preacher  do  his  spiel."  Then  turning  to 
Lillie,  "Young  feller  you're  alright,  shake." 

The  crowd  dispersed.  Gordon  went  to  the  boarding 
house,  packed  up  his  things  and  left.  He  struck  out  for 
Indian  Territory  on  foot,  a  walk  of  a  hundred  and  sixty 
miles  south.  Being  unfamiliar  with  the  lay  of  the  country 
he  mistook  the  trail  and  found  himself  on  the  bottom  lands 
which  had  overflowed  from  the  Kansas  River.  He  was 
often  compelled  to  walk  through  water  varying  from  knee 
to  hip  deep. 

It  was  on  the  second  day  out  that  he  met  Trapper  Tom 
Evans  and  his  party.  Working  with  them  appealed  more 
to  Lillie  than  to  continue  his  hard  walk. 

"What  happened  to  your  ear?"  asked  Trapper  Tom, 
"it's  bleeding." 

"Oh,  just  scratched  it,"  Gordon  replied,  "on  a  briar 
brush." 


[H4] 


CHAPTER  XL 
BUFFALO  BILL  AS  AN  ACTOR. 

URING  the  Fall  of  1872,  Buffalo  Bill 
received  many  letters  from  Ned  Buntline, 
whom  it  will  be  recalled  met  the  great 
scout  some  time  previous  during  a  hunt  of 
the  plains.  Buntline  had  been  very  success- 
ful as  a  magazine  writer. 

"Come  East,  Cody,"  he  wrote,  "I'll  make  an  actor  out  of 
you.  There's  money  in  it,  you'll  prove  a  big  success." 

Cody  had  only  recently  been  elected  to  the  Legislature 
and  was  just  settling  down  in  a  comfortable  home.  His 
friends  with  whom  he  spoke  about  venturing  on  the  stage 
urged  him  against  it.  But  Buntline  was  persistent,  and 
finally  Buffalo  Bill  capitulated.  He  sent  for  Texas  Jack, 
one  of  his  friends  and  a  noted  scout.  They  left  for 
Chicago  amid  the  good  will  and  misgivings  of  many 
friends.  Buntline  met  them  at  the  depot. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Well  boys,"  he  greeted,  "are  you  ready  for  business?" 

"I  can't  exactly  answer  that,"  Cody  replied.  "For  we 
don't  know  much  about  this  acting  business." 

"Come  with  me,"  Buntline  reassured  the  two  plains- 
men, "we'll  see  the  manager  of  the  amphitheatre,  that's 
where  we  play,  opening  there  on  Monday  night." 

The  details  of  making  ,a  contract  with  the  manager  were 
soon  arranged. 

"Have  you  your  company  Buntline,"  the  manager  asked. 

"Not  yet,  but  it  won't  be  hard  to  get,  there  are  always 
a  lot  of  idle  actors  hanging  loose  around  Chicago." 

"Give  me  an  idea  of  your  play  and  I  may  be  able  to  help 
you  pick  the  cast,  I  know  where  most  of  the  actors  are. 
We  haven't  much  time  to  loose." 

"I  haven't  written  the  play  yet,"  Buntline  returned. 

"What  the  deuce  do  you  mean,  no  play,  no  actors  and 
here  it's  Wednesday,  and  you  are  to  open  on  Monday 
night,  it's  preposterous,  Buntline  I  cancel  your  contract." 

"That's  alright  about  the  contract,  how  much  do  you 
want  for  the  theatre  for  one  week?" 

"Six  hundred  dollars." 

"You're  on,  here's  half  of  it  in  advance,  come  along 
boys." 


HERE  WE  STICK 

The  trio  went  to  the  hotel,  Buffalo  Bill  and  Texas  Jack 
to  have  a  nap  and  Buntline  hustled  himself  to  his  own 
room. 

"Don't  let  any  one  disturb  me  until  I  come  down/1  he 
said. 

Four  hours  later  he  rushed  into  the  room  with  Cody 
and  Texas  Jack. 

"Hurrah  for  the  Scouts  of  the  Plains,  that's  the  name  of 
the  play,  I've  just  finished  the  drama,"  he  exclaimed. 
"Here  are  your  parts;  now  boys,  get  to  work  and  study 
hard,  rehearsal  will  be  at  ten  in  the  morning." 

Buntline  hurried  out  to  arrange  for  the  rest  of  the 
company. 

"Say,  that  fellow  is  swift,  ain't  he?"  Jack  said. 

"He's  as  speedy  as  Tall  Bull." 

"How  long  will  it  take  you  to  learn  that  part  Bill  ?" 

"Well,  I  figure  in  about  six  months." 

"Me  too,  to  get  the  first  line,  say  Bill,  let's  cut  it  and 
go  back  West."  . 

"No,  sir,  we  came  on  to  act,  here  we  are  and  here  we 
stick,"  Cody  answered  with  determination,  at  the  same 
time  wishing  inwardly  that  they  were  back  in  the  saddle. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"The  Scouts  of  the  Plains"  was  an  Indian  drama,  with  a 
lot  of  thrills,  mainly  it  permitted  the  public  to  get  a  near 
hand  view  of  the  great  Western  character,  Buffalo  Bill, 
they  had  read  so  much  about.  Financially  it  was  a  success. 
The  dramatic  critics  treated  the  embryo  actors  with 
leniency,  although  one  writer  remarked  that  if  it  really 
took  Buntline  four  hours  to  write  the  play,  the  scribe  won- 
dered what  he  had  been  doing  all  that  time. 

But  Buntline  was  right,  Buffalo  Bill  was  a  novel  char- 
acter and  it  was  soon  evident  that  the  public  would  pay 
well  to  see  him  on  the  stage.  A  road  tour  commenced 
which  lasted  until  June  16,  1873.  Cody's  profits  from  the 
season  amounted  to  six  thousand  dollars. 

He  determined  to  try  it  again,  this  time  including  with 
Texas  Jack,  Wild  Bill,  the  scout  and  hero  of  the  Mc- 
Candles'  gang  fight.  The  company  was  known  as  the  Buf- 
falo Bill  combination,  with  John  M.  Burke  as  its  business 
manager.  Lively  times  were  in  store  for  the  troupe.  Wild 
Bill  took  the  show  business  as  a  huge  joke  and  would 
never  take  his  work  seriously,  he  was  up  to  deviltry  all  the 
time. 

It  was  at  Titusville,  Pa.,  when  soon  after  the  company 
arrived  the  landlord  sought  out  Cody. 

[118] 


THRASHES  ROWDIES 

"Don't  you  or  any  of  your  party  go  into  the  billiard 
room,"  he  said  trembling. 

"Why?" 

"There's  a  gang  of  toughs  in  there  from  the  oil  fields, 
they  are  all  drunk  and  say  they  came  up  to  clean  out  your 
party." 

Wild  Bill  overheard  this. 

"Watch  me  Bill,"  he  said  starting  for  the  door.  "Keep 
count  as  I  throw  'em  out." 

"Hold  on  Bill,"  Cody  said,  "wait  until  after  we  show 
to-night" 

Good  as  were  his  intentions  and  promise  not  to  go  there, 
Wild  Bill's  curiosity  overcame  him  and  he  sauntered  into 
the  billiard  room  a  little  while  later. 

"Hello  Buffalo  Bill,"  one  of  the  rowdies  exclaimed. 
"We've  been  looking  for  you  all  day." 

"My  name  isn't  Buffalo  Bill." 

"You're  a  liar,"  retorted  the  bruiser. 

Bill  knocked  him  down  and  seizing  a  chair  soon  had 
seven  of  the  gang  strewn  out  on  the  floor.  The  show  went 
on  that  night  without  any  disturbance. 

When  the  season  closed  in  Boston,  Cody  made  his  prepa- 
rations to  return  to  Nebraska.  An  English  gentleman  by 


THRILLING  LIVES 

the  name  of  Medley  presented  himself  with  a  request  that 
the  scout  act  as  guide  on  a  big  hunt  and  camping  trip 
through  the  Western  territory.  The  pay  was  liberal,  a 
thousand  dollars  a  month  and  expenses;  Buffalo  Bill  ac- 
cepted the  offer.  He  spent  that  summer  in  his  old  occupa- 
tion and  the  ensuing  winter  continued  his  tour  as  the  star 
of  the  drama.  Wild  Bill  and  Texas  Jack  were  again  in 
the  company,  but  the  second  season  proved  too  much  for 
the  patience  of  the  former,  and  he  attempted  to  break  his 
contract.  The  manager  refused  to  release  him,  but  Wild 
Bill  conceived  the  notion  that  under  certain  circumstances 
the  company  would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  him. 

That  night  he  put  his  plan  into  execution  by  discharging 
his  blank  cartridges  so  near  the  legs  of  the  "dead"  Indians 
on  the  stage,  that  startled  supers  came  to  life  with  more 
realistic  yells  than  had  accompanied  their  death. 

This  was  a  bit  of  business  not  called  for  in  the  playbook, 
and  while  the  audience  was  vastly  entertained,  the  manage- 
ment withheld  its  approval.  Cody  expostulated  with  the 
reckless  Indian  slayer,  but  Wild  Bill  remarked  calmly, 
"that  he  hadn't  hurt  the  fellows  anyway,"  and  continued 
to  indulge  in  his  innocent  pastime. 

[120] 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  PAWNEE  BILL. 
Side  by  Side  on  Their  Favorite  Mounts. 


BAD  NEWS 

Severe  measures  were  next  resorted  to.  He  was  in- 
formed that  he  must  stop  shooting  the  Indians  after  they 
were  dead  or  leave  the  company.  This  was  just  what  Wild 
Bill  had  hoped  for,  and  when  the  curtain  went  up  on  the 
next  performance  he  was  to  be  seen  sitting  in  the  audience, 
enjoying  the  play  for  the  first  time. 

Cody  sympathized  with  his  former  actor,  but  he  had  a 
duty  to  perform  and  faithfully  endeavored  to  persuade  the 
recreant  actor  to  return  to  the  company.  Persuasion  went 
for  nothing,  so  the  contract  was  annulled  and  Wild  Bill 
made  ready  to  return  to  his  beloved  plains. 

"Here  Bill  is  a  little  gift  from  Texas  Jack  and  myself," 
Cody  said  handing  him  two  one  thousand  dollar  bills. 

The  next  season  Buffalo  Bill  removed  his  family  to 
Rochester  and  organized  a  company  of  his  own.  There 
was  too  much  artificiality  about  stage  life  to  suit  one  that 
had  been  accustomed  to  stern  reality,  and  he  sought  to 
do  away  with  as  much  of  it  as  possible  by  introducing 
into  his  own  company  a  band  of  real  Indians.  The  season 
of  1875-76  opened  brilliantly;  the  company  played  to 
crowded  houses  everywhere. 

One  night  in  April  when  the  season  was  nearing  its 
close,  a  telegram  was  handed  to  Cody,  just  about  as  he  was 


THRILLING  LIVES 

to  step  on  the  stage.  It  was  from  his  wife  summoning 
him  to  Rochester,  to  the  bedside  of  his  only  son,  Kit  Car- 
son Cody.  He  consulted  with  his  manager  and  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  after  the  first  act  he  was  to  be  excused,  so  that 
he  might  catch  the  train. 

That  first  act  was  a  miserable  experience,  though  the 
audience  did  not  suspect  that  the  actor's  heart  was  almost 
stopped  by  fear  and  anxiety.  He  caught  his  train  and  the 
manager  played  out  the  part. 

It  was  too,  a  miserable  ride  to  Rochester,  filled  up  with 
the  gloomiest  of  forebodings,  heightened  by  memories  of 
every  incident  in  the  precious  little  life  now  in  danger. 

Kit  was  a  handsome  child  with  striking  features  and 
curly  hair.  His  mother  always  dressed  him  in  the  finest 
clothes  and  tempted  by  these  combined  attractions,  gypsies 
had  carried  him  away  the  previous  summer.  But  Kit  was 
the  son  of  a  scout,  his  young  eyes  were  sharp.  He  marked 
the  trail  followed  by  his  captors,  and  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, gave  them  the  slip  and  got  safely  home,  exclaim- 
ing as  he  toddled  into  the  sobbing  family  circle : 

"I  turned  back  adain,  Mama,  don't  cry." 

Despite  his  anxiety,  Cody  smiled  at  the  recollection  of 
the  season  when  his  son  had  been  a  regular  visitor  at 

[122] 


CODY'S  SON  DIES 

the  theatre.  The  little  fellow  knew  that  the  most  important 
feature  of  a  dramatic  performance,  from  the  management's 
point  of  view  is  a  large  audience.  He  watched  the  seats 
fill  in  keen  anxiety,  and  the  moment  the  curtain  arose  and 
his  father  appeared  on  the  stage,  he  would  make  a  trum- 
pet of  his  little  hands  and  shout  from  the  box : 

"Good  house  Papa.11 

The  audience  learned  to  expect  and  enjoy  this  bit  of  by- 
play between  father  and  son.  His  duty  performed,  Kit 
settled  himself  in  his  seat  and  gave  himself  up  to  undis- 
turbed enjoyment  of  the  play. 

When  Cody  reached  Rochester  he  found  his  son  still 
alive,  though  beyond  medical  aid.  He  was  burning  up 
with  fever,  but  still  conscious  and  the  little  arms  were  joy- 
fully lifted  to  clasp  around  his  Papa's  neck.  He  lingered 
during  the  next  day  and  into  the  night,  but  the  end  came, 
and  Cody  faced  a  great  sorrow  of  his  life.  He  had  built 
fond  hopes  for  his  son  and  in  a  breath  they  had  been  swept 
away.  Little  Kit  was  laid  to  rest  in  Mount  Hope  Ceme- 
tery April  24,  1876. 

Cody  determined  to  cut  the  theatrical  season  short. 
There  were  still  several  weeks  of  contracts  to  fulfill.  One 


THRILLING  LIVES 

day  as  he  was  leaving  the  hotel  for  the  theatre  he  heard 
the  newsboys  shout: 

"Extra!    Extra!    All  about  the  Indian  war  out  West!" 

"Here  boy,  give  me  a  paper,"  and  Cody  glanced  at  it 
hurriedly. 

"What's  happened  Bill,"  one  of  his  company  asked,  peer- 
ing at  the  paper  over  his  shoulder. 

"Another  uprising  with  the  Sioux." 

"I'll  bet  the  government  wishes  you  were  out  there." 

"I'm  going." 

"What,"  exclaimed  the  other  in  surprise,  "you  can't 
break  your  theatrical  contracts." 

"I  can  bust  anything  when  my  country  needs  me,"  Cody 
replied.  "To  hell  with  the  show  business,  I'm  going  West 
to-night." 


[124] 


ffi 
M 

td 

3 

O 

d 


CHAPTER  XII. 
PAWNEE  BILL  MEETS  JESSE  JAMES. 

OR  several  years  Gordon  worked  for  Trapper 
Tom  Evans.  His  youth  was  for  a  time  the 
butt  of  many  jokes  among  the  trappers.  But 
they  soon  grew  to  know  him  as  a  determined 
youngster  afraid  of  no  danger  that  man  or 
elements  could  suggest. 

He  took  naturally  to  the  trails,  its  ways  and  its  hard- 
ships. It  wasn't  long  before  the  men  ceased  to  call  him 
tenderfoot.  In  the  fall  of  the  year  Lillie  started  to  market 
in  charge  of  a  pack  train  laden  with  dried  hides  and  pelts. 
The  nearest  selling  place  was  the  Pawnee  Indian  Agency. 
One  bitter  cold  night  on  the  journey  he  decided  to  re- 
main on  Camp  Creek  until  daylight.  Hardly  had  the 
horses  been  tethered  and  the  fires  going  when  a  cutting 
northwester  gave  his  experienced  mind  the  foreboding  of 
bad  weather. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

The  pack  mules  bunched  on  the  side  of  the  creek,  refus- 
ing to  leave  either  for  food  or  water.  They  too  knew 
that  a  storm  was  brewing. 

Amid  lightning  flashes  and  a  down-pour  of  rain  the 
elements  raged  in  their  fury.  Seeing  that  remaining  in 
camp  would  be  as  bad  as  forging  ahead,  Lillie  thought  it 
best  to  try  to  make  some  headway.  But  his  mules  refused 
to  budge  an  inch. 

Saddling  his  own  horse,  he  started  for  the  agency  to 
get  provisions,  leaving  the  remaining  animals  securely  tied. 
Within  an  hour  the  rain  turned  to  snow,  it  fell  in  blinding 
flurries,  obliterating  every  landmark.  He  could  see  noth- 
ing ahead  and  hear  nothing  except  the  wailing  of  the 
wind.  Lillie  dismounted,  broke  a  small  limb  from  a  tree 
and  stuck  it  in  the  snow,  fully  half  an  hour  later,  though 
he  was  riding  all  the  time,  he  came  across  the  same  bough. 

"As  I  thought,"  he  muttered  with  teeth  chattering. 
"Completely  lost  and  just  going  round  and  round  in  a 
circle."  He  tried  to  build  a  fire  but  all  his  matches  were 
wet,  he  was  without  food,  with  no  prospects  of  the  storm 
abating. 

"Guess  we'd  better  keep  a  moving  any  way  old  horse," 
and  with  that  he  started  again,  with  head  bowed  low  over 


LOST  IN  STORM 

the  saddle  pommel.  He  had  gone  but  a  little  way  when 
with  a  pitch  he  was  thrown  head  foremost  from  the  saddle, 
rolling  over  in  a  pile  of  snow.  His  horse  had  fallen  over  a 
river  bank.  Lillie's  wrist  was  bady  bruised  in  striking  a 
cake  of  ice.  He  made  his  way  back  to  the  horse,  the  ani- 
mal was  lying  on  its  side  and  seemed  unable  to  rise. 

"Here  old  fellow  you  must  get  up,  this  lying  down  here 
won't  do."  But  try  as  he  might  the  horse  could  not  move. 
Gordon  soon  found  the  reason  why,  the  animal  had  broken 
its  leg  in  the  fall. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  do,  Lillie  did  that  re- 
luctantly. 

"Too  bad  old  pard,  I  hate  to  see  you  go,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing his  revolver,  "this  will  put  you  out  of  your  suffering." 

Lillie  removed  the  saddle  from  the  dead  animal  and 
wrapped  the  blanket  around  his  own  body.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  wait  or  freeze  to  death.  He  sat  down  on 
the  horse's  side.  A  few  minutes  passed  when  he  was 
startled  to  hear  a  groan,  it  sounded  like  the  creaking  of 
trees.  A  bit  more  and  Gordon  heard  the  sound  again. 

"Some  other  animal  has  fallen  over  the  bank,  I  guess," 
he  mused  and  thoroughly  numbed  with  cold,  sank  to  the 
ground,  his  eyes  were  heavy,  the  icy  grip  of  a  death  sleep 

[127] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

was  stealing  over  him,  he  seemed  to  realize  it  and  made  a 
final  struggle  to  his  feet.  Stumbling  on,  numb  in  every 
joint  with  the  bruised  wrist  aching  badly,  the  young  trap- 
per tried  to  make  headway  against  the  storm.  He  found 
that  by  keeping  close  to  the  under  side  of  the  river  bank 
that  the  force  of  the  storm  was  somewhat  spent  before  it 
hit  him.  He  had  gone  a  few  feet  when  he  heard  the  groan 
again. 

He  stopped  and  listened  intently.  Then  again  came  the 
sound. 

"Halloa,"  he  tried  to  cry,  but  his  lips  would  hardly  open 
to  let  out  the  sound.  He  listened. 

"Halloa,"  came  a  faint  answer,  like  the  echo  of  a  dying 
wind. 

"My  God,"  he  mused,  "there's  some  poor  devil  out  in 
the  storm  too." 

Bending  every  muscle  he  started  in  the  direction  of  the 
voice,  not  twenty  feet  away  he  came  upon  the  prostrate 
form  of  a  man  nearly  covered  with  snow,  which  had  crim- 
soned with  blood. 

"Halloa  there,  stranger,"  Lillie  said,  kneeling  down  be- 
side him,  "you  look  to  be  in  a  bad  way." 

"Got  any  whiskey,"  faintly  asked  the  other. 
[128] 


RESCUES  STRANGER 

"No,"  and  despite  the  seriousness  of  their  predicament, 
a  smile  traced  itself  over  Lillie's  features. 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  he  thought,  "everywhere  I  go 
someone  is  talking  about  a  drink." 

"Can  you  stop  me  from  bleeding  so  much,"  the  stranger 
said.  Lillie  took  the  horse  blanket  from  his  shoulders  and 
wrapped  it  around  the  wounded  man.  There  was  a  gaping 
wound  in  his  forehead,  and  one  arm  was  shot  through. 

"What  happened?" 

"Sheriff  and  his  men "  but  could  get  no  further. 

Lillie  saw  that  unless  aid  was  secured  for  the  bleeding 
man  that  he  would  soon  die,  he  did  not  know  which  way 
to  turn,  the  snow  still  fell  in  blinding  sheets. 

"Cabin-up-river-bank,-about-two-hundred-yards,  try-to- 
get-me-there,"  faintly  faltered  the  other. 

"I'll  go  for  help,"  thought  Lillie,  "no  I  might  as  well  try 
to  carry  him  along,"  and  with  that  the  youngster  summon- 
ing all  his  strength  drew  the  wounded  man  to  him  and 
started  on  the  journey.  Stumbling  and  falling  at  nearly 
every  step,  it  seemed  a  hopeless  task.  But  Gordon  would 
not  give  up  as  long  as  there  was  an  ounce  of  life  left  in 
him.  He  staggered  on. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Dimly  through  the  falling  snow  Lillie  thought  he  saw  a 
light.  He  tried  to  cry  out  but  no  sound  came  from  his 
lips.  The  wounded  man,  exhausted  by  loss  of  blood  and 
cold,  had  swooned  away.  His  dead  weight  was  beginning 
to  tell  on  the  sturdy  youngster.  Finally,  seeing  that  he 
could  not  carry  his  burden  any  more  and  that  he  was  with- 
in a  few  feet  of  the  cabin,  Lillie  laid  the  man  in  the  snow 
and  half  falling  at  every  step  staggered  to  the  door,  he 
stumbled  against  it  and  fell,  as  he  did  so  there  was  the 
sharp  report  of  a  rifle.  A  bullet  crashed  through  the  door 
not  two  inches  above  Gordon's  head. 

Then  all  was  still,  Lillie  had  fainted. 

After  a  few  minutes  the  door  was  opened  just  enough 
to  allow  a  rifle  barrel  to  come  through. 

"Who's  there,"  demanded  a  voice  from  the  inside. 

There  was  no  answer. 

The  door  opened  a  little  more  and  finally  was  gradually 
shoved  back.  Gordon's  body  which  had  fallen  against  the 
bottom  part  fell  into  the  room. 

"Guess  you  got  him  alright,"  said  one  of  the  men  in  the 
room.  "Who  is  it?" 

"Dunno,  turn  up  the  light." 

"Why,  it's  that  young  feller  that  works  for  Trapper 


MAN  OUT  THERE! 

Tom,"  one  said  rolling  Lillie  over  on  his  face.  "That's 
too  bad,  didn't  mean  to  hit  him." 

Just  then  Gordon  moved,  the  heat  of  the  room  had  re- 
vived him  a  little. 

"Man  out  there,"  he  panted  and  fell  off  to  unconscious- 
ness. 

"Go  out  Dick  and  see  who  it  is." 

In  a  few  minutes  Dick  returned  carrying  the  almost 
frozen  body  of  the  wounded  man.  At  a  glance  the  men 
inside  saw  it  was  one  of  their  number.  Stimulants  were 
applied  and  the  injured  man  regained  consciousness,  in  a 
few  words  he  told  the  story  of  his  rescue  by  Lillie.  Gordon 
about  this  time  was  coming  to,  they  put  him  to  bed,  applied 
the  usual  restoratives  and  treatment  for  those  who  are 
frozen.  In  the  morning  Lillie  awoke  refreshed  after  a 
sound  sleep  and  was  but  little  the  worse  for  his  experience 
the  night  before. 

He  raised  his  head.  He  tried  to  collect  his  scattered 
senses.  He  could  not  account  for  his  being  in  bed  in  a 
strange  place.  At  the  far  side  of  the  room  there  were 
several  men,  including  the  wounded  man  that  he  rescued 
the  night  before.  Slowly  memory  came  back,  he  recalled 


THRILLING  LIVES 

everything  up  to  the  time  that  he  had  fallen  against  the 
door. 

He  got  up. 

At  the  first  sound  he  made  there  was  a  quick  movement 
on  the  part  of  four  men,  they  wheeled  facing  him  and 
Lillie  was  astounded  to  find  himself  looking  down  four 
rifle  barrels. 

"It's  only  the  young  feller,"  said  one,  and  the  guns 
came  down. 

"Well  bub,  how  do  you  feel  ?"  one  of  them  asked. 

"Pretty  good,  but  where  in  the  deuce  am  I  and  why  this 
cordial  greeting  with  the  guns.  Do  you  fellows  always 
say  good  morning  to  a  stranger  with  a  rifle  ?" 

"As  a  rule  we  say  good  night  to  him  with  that/'  laughed 
one  who  seemed  to  be  the  leader.  "Any  way  you  have  noth- 
ing to  fear.  The  boys  want  to  thank  you  for  saving  one  of 
our  pals." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right — now  don't  ask  me  if  I  want  a  drink 
of  anything,  except  some  of  that  good  smelling  coffee  over 
there."  He  got  up,  one  of  the  men  bandaged  his  swollen 
wrist  and  the  party  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

"That  chap  was  in  pretty  bad  shape,  lucky  I  happened 


MEETS  JESSE  JAMES 

to  get  lost  in  that  storm,  or  I  guess  he  would  have  passed 
in  before  morning.  How  did  he  get  shot  up?" 

"Well/*  began  one  of  the  men,  "we  don't  as  a  rule  talk 
much  about  those  things,  but  I  guess  you're  entitled  to 
know.  You  see,  we  boys  ain't  very  popular  with  the  con- 
stables or  the  detectives,  and  when  we  come  across  each 
other  there's  usually  a  burying  takes  place." 

And  from  the  armed  appearance  of  every  member  of 
the  gang  Lillie  needed  no  stretch  of  imagination  to  believe 
it. 

"Who  the  dickens  are  you  fellows  anyway?"  he  asked. 

"Jesse  James  and  his  men,"  replied  the  tallest  of  their 
number,  who  had  acted  as  the  spokesman. 

"Gee  whizz!"  exclaimed  Gordon. 

"That's  alright,  don't  be  afraid." 

"Not  a  darn  bit  afraid — only  surprised,  you  don't  seem 
to  be  a  bad  sort  of  a  fellow  at  all." 

"Well,  that's  because  you  wasn't  looking  for  us  and 
we  wasn't  looking  for  you,  that  might  make  a  differ- 
ence," the  other  replied.  The  storm  had  abated  by  this 
time  and  Lillie  prepared  to  go. 

"Now  young  feller,  we  have  got  to  stay  here  and  look 
after  the  one  that  was  shot — you  know  there's  a  big  re- 

[133] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

ward  for  us — what  are  you  going  to  talk  about  when  you 
get  to  town,  if  we  let  you  go?" 

"About  the  first  thing  will  be  to  talk  someone  into  giv- 
ing me  a  job,  I  suppose  Trapper  Tom  will  fire  me,  for 
losing  his  horse ;  the  rest  of  the  team,  I  guess,  is  frozen  to 
death  by  this  time." 

"Aren't  going  to  say  anything  about  us." 

"Why  the  devil  should  I?" 

"To  get  the  reward." 

"Well,  I'm  not  looking  for  that  kind  of  money — you've 
treated  me  right — if  you  hadn't  been  in.  this  cabin  I'd  a 
froze  to  death,  I'm  glad  to  be  alive  but  don't  like  the  idea 
of  that  long  walk  to  the  Indian  agency." 

"You  won't  have  to  walk,"  James  said,  "you  can  have 
one  of  our  horses." 

And  true  to  his  word,  Gordon  never  mentioned  having 
met  the  Jesse  James  crowd  until  long  after  they  were 
driven  out  of  the  state  by  the  Rangers. 

For  several  months  he  continued  in  the  employ  of  Trap- 
per Tom.  The  work  offered  no  advancement  and  his  am- 
bitious nature  chafed  under  the  limited  opportunities.  One 
day  while  at  the  agency  he  learned  of  an  opening.  He 
secured  the  influence  of  several  prominent  men  who  had 

[134] 


APPOINTED  INTERPRETER 

been  watching  the  youth's  career  for  some  time.  He  was 
installed  as  secretary  to  the  Government  agent.  He  liked 
the  work.  The  Indians  with  whom  he  was  thrown  in  daily 
contact  grew  attached  to  him.  He  saw  a  way  of  further 
advancement  but  it  meant  much  study,  but  after  some 
time  he  overcame  all  the  difficulties  of  the  Pawnee  lan- 
guage. 

The  opportunity  came  and  he  approached  Colonel  Hay- 
worth,  the  Government  Inspector. 

"Colonel,"  Lillie  began,  "I've  been  studying  hard  and 
I  want  to  be  an  interpreter." 

"But " 

"I  know  twenty  dialects,"  Lillie  ignored  the  objections, 
"and  I  would  like  to  get  the  place." 

"You  are  too  young,  my  boy." 

"It's  not  youth  you're  hiring,  Colonel,  it's  my  ability  as 
an  interpreter." 

"Yes  and  your  obstinate  determination  to  get  whatever 
you  go  after,"  Hayworth  laughingly  said,  "Alright,  I'll 
get  you  the  commission." 

In  this  position  he  remained  for  some  time,  adding  new 
friends  and  achievements  to  his  budding  career.  In  the 
summer  of  1884  a  party  of  four  masked  men,  heavily 

[135] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

armed  and  swiftly  mounted  rode  up  to  the  only  bank  at 
Medicine  Lodge.  One  held  the  horses  and  the  other 
three  entered  the  bank. 

"Hands  up,"  exclaimed  the  leader. 

"Not  so  fast,"  cried  Lillie,  who  had  only  a  few  minutes 
before  entered  the  bank  to  deposit  some  government 
money,  his  revolver  was  in  action  at  once.  The  hammer 
fell  on  an  empty  barrel,  the  desperadoes  opened  fire  on 
him  and  Lillie,  seeing  that  a  four  handed  fight  with  three 
men  who  had  loaded  pistols  while  his  was  empty,  was  not 
conducive  to  his  best  health,  made  a  dash  around  the 
counter  and  escaped  through  the  back  door  while  the  rob- 
bers kept  shooting.  Both  bank  clerks  were  killed.  Lillie 
dashed  into  the  street. 

"Get  your  rifles,"  he  yelled,  shouting  to  a  crowd  of  citi- 
zens a  little  way  off.  "Bank  being  robbed,  let's  give  'em 
a  run  for  it." 

The  ranchers  and  cowmen  headed  by  Lillie  soon  over- 
took the  bandits,  a  running  fight  commenced  in  which  one 
of  the  bank  thieves  was  shot  from  his  horse,  another 
wounded  and  the  other  two  captured.  The  cowboys  were 
for  a  lynching  bee  then  and  there. 


A  Few  of  the  f2ea<yon<s  Wfov 
Buffalo 


ROBBERS  LYNCHED 

"No  boys,  give  the  law  a  chance,  they'll  get  theirs  any- 
way." 

That  night,  however,  the  jail  was  broken  into  and  the 
two  men  strung  up  to  a  tree. 

Not  long  after  this  Lillie  bought  a  herd  of  cattle  and 
started  for  Cedar  Creek  where  he  intended  taking  up  a 
homestead.  The  country  then  was  filled  with  desperate 
characters.  Men  who  thought  nothing  of  jumping  the 
weak-kneed  settlers'  claim  and  holding  it  for  their  own. 
Cattle  land  was  then  becoming  valuable. 

Lillie  selected  his  site  and  built  a  rude  little  cabin.  The 
next  morning  he  picked  up  a  note  lying  on  his  door  step. 
It  read : 

"Save  trouble  and  move  away  quick." 

Reversing  the  sheet  of  paper  he  wrote  on  its  back: 
"Move  nothing,  I'm  here  to  stay,  if  you  fellows  are  looking 
for  trouble  drop  around  to  see  me  any  time,"  and  riding 
over  to  the  supposed  author's  ranch,  he  stuck  it  to  a  post 
and  returned  home  to  wait  for  results.  They  came. 

One  evening  he  was  sitting  in  the  cabin  door  cleaning  his 
rifle.  He  heard  a  noise  like  leaves  crackling  and  then  a 
bullet  whizzed  by  his  head,  coming  through  a  window  just 


THRILLING  LIVES 

to  the  rear  of  the  door.    There  was  an  empty  rain  barrel  a 
few  feet  away,  he  was  in  it  in  a  second. 

For  a  long  time  there  wasn't  a  sound — then  the  figure  of 
a  man  crept  stealthily  around  the  corner  of  the  cabin  in 
full  view  of  Gordon  who  was  watching  through  a  hole  in 
the  barrel.  The  man  raised,  took  aim  at  the  open  door  and 
was  about  to  press  the  trigger.  He  was  between  the  cabin 
and  Lillie's  hiding  place  with  his  back  to  the  latter. 

"Hold  on  there,"  Gordon  cried,  rising  above  the  bar- 
rel and  covering  the  intruder — "drop  that  gun." 

"Don't  shoot,"  whined  the  culprit,  letting  his  rifle  fall. 

"You're  too  poor  a  marksman  to  be  prowling  around  at 
night — you  might  accidentally  hit  some  one." 

"It's  all  a  mistake." 

"Yes,  but  only  because  I  wasn't  where  you  thought  I 
was.  What  are  you  after?" 

"I  was  looking  for  some  cattle  that  they  told  me  you  had 
stolen." 

"Don't  tell  any  lies  that  you  can't  prove.  There  isn't 
any  stray  cattle  around  here  except  the  one  my  gun's 
pointed  at  now.  Now  get  away  quick." 

And  he  did. 

[138] 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
BUFFALO  BILL'S  DUEL  WITH  CHIEF  YELLOW  HAND. 

ERE  comes  Buffalo  Bill." 

Three  ringing  cheers  expressed  the  delight 
of  the  troopers  over  his  return  to  his  old  com- 
mand and  Cody  was  equally  pleased.  As 
good  as  his  word,  Buffalo  Bill  closed  his  the- 
atrical tour  and  hastened  to  Chicago  on  his  way  West.  It 
was  his  intention  to  overtake  General  Crook.  A  few 
hours  after  his  arrival  in  Chicago,  Cody  was  met  by  an 
officer  from  the  military  headquarters. 

"Just  the  man  we're  looking  for,"  the  latter  said.  "Gen- 
eral Carr,  in  command  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  has  sent  for 
you  to  act  as  his  guide  and  chief  of  scouts  on  the  march  to 
meet  General  Crook  in  Arizona." 

Hastening  on  to  Cheyenne,  Buffalo  Bill  overtook  the 
command  and  was  met  at  the  depot  by  Captain  King  (now 
General).  His  reception  by  General  Carr  was  warm. 

[139] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

He  was  at  once  installed  as  chief  of  Scouts.  The  next 
morning  the  command  started  for  Fort  Laramie,  where  it 
overtook  General  Sheridan  en  route  to  the  Red  Cloud 
agency.  Cody  was  asked  to  accompany  him  as  scout.  In- 
dian depredations  of  recent  occurrence  caused  the  Fifth 
Cavalry  to  scour  the  country  at  the  foot  of  the  Blackhill 
mountains  for  about  two  weeks.  Frequent  minor  engage- 
ments with  the  redskins  occurred. 

At  this  time  General  Wesley  Merritt  had  relieved  Gen- 
eral Carr  in  command  of  the  Fifth.  He  and  Buffalo  Bill 
soon  became  fast  friends.  On  June  25,  1876,  came  news 
that  staggered  Cody,  officers  and  men  alike.  Custer  had 
been  killed  and  his  whole  force  massacred. 

To  Buffalo  Bill  the  loss  of  this  gallant  soldier  was  a 
personal  one.  The  two  had  been  the  warmest  of  friends. 
Cody  swore  vengeance,  not  realizing  that  it  would  come 
soon  enough.  Orders  were  instantly  given  to  proceed  to 
Fort  Fetterman  and  join  General  Crook  in  the  Big  Horn 
Basin. 

The  last  seen  of  Custer,  as  he  started  into  that  memor- 
able battle  of  the  Little  Big  Horn,  was  when  he  went  over 
the  ridge  and  waved  his  hat  in  salute  to  the  other  com- 
mands. Custer  made  a  wide  detour,  to  fall  on  the  rear  of 


CUSTER'S  LAST  FIGHT 

the  Indian  village  or  what  he  thought  was  the  rear,  imme- 
diately struck  a  very  strong  band  of  warriors,  for  by  this 
time  Chief  Gall  had  been  informed  of  Ouster's  presence 
and  hastened  to  that  point  with  reinforcements.  Word 
was  also  sent  to  Chief  Crazy  Horse  to  assist  in  the  com- 
bined attack  on  Custer. 

They  crossed  the  river  at  a  point  where  they  were  con- 
cealed by  a  large  ravine  and  got  on  Custer's  flank,  and  so 
astute  had  been  Chief  Gall's  arrangements,  that  the  brave 
soldier  found  himself  attacked  in  front  and  on  all  sides 
at  once. 

Custer's  first  charge  was  successful  until  he  saw  the  im- 
mensity of  the  village.  It  was  a  full-fledged  city  of  yell- 
ing redskins.  He  decided  to  make  his  stand  on  a  high 
hill,  half  a  mile  away  and  back  from  the  village. 

He  sounded  recall  and  tried  to  make  the  point,  turning 
his  back  while  doing  so.  The  Indians  were  never  so  brave 
as  when  they  saw  a  white  soldier's  back.  On  the  retreat 
to  the  hill  half  of  Custer's  command  was  killed.  The  rest 
took  up  positions,  but  the  Indians  being  so  elated  at  the 
effects  of  their  first  charge  concentrated  and  fought  Cus- 
ter like  demons. 

[141] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Fighting  desperately  to  gain  a  point  higher  up,  he  was 
compelled  to  dismount  his  men  and  act  upon  the  defensive. 
Unable  to  advance  or  retreat  and  probably  unwilling  to  do 
the  latter  anyway,  Custer  must  have  based  his  actions  on 
the  diversion  the  other  commands  of  white  soldiers  would 
make.  Steadfastly  believing  that  help  would  come,  they 
fought  coolly,  hoping  and  expecting  for  reinforcements 
that  never  came. 

The  Indians  were  all  well  armed  and  in  overwhelming 
numbers  circling  and  riding  at  high  speed,  they  kept  up  a 
continuous  and  active  fire,  while  skirmishers  and  marks- 
men crawled  through  the  grass  picking  off  officers,  even- 
tually killing  Custer  and  every  one  of  his  gallant  fighters. 
They  all  died  in  their  proper  military  positions,  every 
officer  at  his  post,  every  man  in  line.  Custer's  body  was 
found  and  although  all  the  others  were  mutilated  or 
scalped,  his  remains  seemed  to  have  been  untouched, 
except  by  his  death  wounds,  a  tribute  from  the  savage 
foe  for  his  bravery  and  courageous  fight  for  life. 

On  the  march  to  join  Crook,  a  messenger  arrived  tell- 
ing Merritt  that  eight  hundred  Cheyenne  warriors  had 
left  the  Red  Cloud  Agency  that  day  to  join  Sitting  Bull's 
hostile  forces  in  the  Big  Horn  region.  Merritt  selected  five 


INDIANS  APPROACH 

hundred  men  with  Cody  as  guide,  dispatching  them  to 
War  Bonnet  Creek  in  an  effort  to  intercept  these  Indies. 
The  detachment  reached  the  Creek  on  the  evening  of  July 
17,  1876,  and  went  into  camp.  Buffalo  Bill  at  daybreak 
struck  out  to  reconnoiter. 

"General,  the  body  of  Cheyennes  are  approaching  from 
the  south,"  he  reported  to  Merritt. 

Quietly  the  order  was  given  for  the  cavalry  to  mount 
and  remain  out  of  view.  Cody  and  Merritt,  with  two 
aides,  went  on  a  little  tour  of  observation  to  a  neighbor- 
ing hill. 

"They're  coming  directly  at  us,"  exclaimed  General 
Merritt. 

Presently  fifteen  or  twenty  Indians  dashed  off  to  the 
West  in  the  direction  from  which  Merritt's  command  had 
come  the  night  before. 

"General,  I  see  two  mounted  soldiers  pushing  their  way 
on  our  trail,"  Cody  said  with  his  eyes  glued  to  the  field 
glass.  "They  are  evidently  carrying  dispatches  to  you." 

The  Indians  were  trying  to  intercept  the  messengers. 
Merritt  did  not  think  it  advisable  to  send  out  soldiers  to 
the  couriers'  aid  as  it  would  disclose  the  fact  that  a  body 
of  troops  were  nearby. 

[143] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Wait  until  those  men  get  a  little  closer,"  Cody  said, 
"and  as  the  Indians  are  about  to  charge  I  will  take  my 
scouts  and  make  a  dash  to  their  rescue." 

"Alright  Cody,"  Merritt  replied,  "it's  risky,  but  if  you 
can  do  it,  go  ahead." 

Buffalo  Bill  rushed  back  to  the  command  and  mounting, 
picked  out  fifteen  men  then  rejoined  Merritt  on  the  hill. 

"Give  the  word,"  Cody  said,  "when  you  think  it's  time 
General." 

A  few  moments  later  Merritt  exclaimed: 

"Go  in  now  Cody,  be  quick  about  it,  they  are  about  to 
charge." 

The  two  messengers  were  not  over  four  hundred  yards 
distant,  with  the  Indians  about  six  hundred  feet  behind 
them.  Cody  and  his  men  dashed  over  the  bluffs  and  gal- 
loped straight  at  the  redskins.  A  quick  skirmish  then 
three  dead  Indian?  were  on  the  plains. 

The  balance  retreated  joining  the  main  body  of  war 
painted  Cheyennes.  But  not  for  long. 

A  second  group  came  dashing  at  the  white  men  who 
were  by  this  time  nearly  a  half  mile  from  the  cavalry.  The 
fighting  began  in  earnest.  Suddenly  one  of  the  Indians 


AT  THE, 
IRMAHOTEL 


THROUGH  WON£E%LANDl:£AMFlXGOtf 


DUEL  WITH  INDIAN 

decorated  with  the  head  gear  of  a  chief  broke  from  his 
band  and  rode  straight  for  Cody. 

"I  know  you,  Pa-he-haska,"  he  yelled  in  the  native 
tongue.  "If  you  want  fight,  come  ahead  and  fight  me." 

The  chief  drew  his  men  to  line  and  rode  back  and  forth 
in  front  bantering  Buffalo  Bill  with  challenges  for  a  duel. 

"All  right,  you  red  devil,  get  ready."  Cody  galloped 
toward  him,  the  Chief  started  at  the  same  time,  both  rid- 
ing at  full  speed  to  within  a  distance  of  thirty  yards  of  each 
other. 

The  Indian  fired  first  and  missed.  Buffalo  Bill's  shot 
killed  the  redskin's  horse.  At  the  same  instant  his  own 
mount  stumbled  and  Cody  was  unseated.  Springing  to 
their  feet  both  the  red  and  white  man,  not  more  than 
twenty  paces  apart,  fired  simultaneously. 

The  Indian  sank  to  the  ground  with  a  bullet  in  his 
breast.  Cody  was  uninjured  and  at  the  Chief's  side  in  a 
twinkling.  A  quick  thrust  and  Buffalo  Bill's  bowie  cleaved 
the  redskin's  heart.  Jerking  off  the  war  bonnet  Cody 
quickly  scalped  the  dead  warrior. 

The  whole  duel  had  lasted  but  a  few  minutes.  The  In- 
dians watched  in  awe,  but  as  soon  as  they  saw  their  chief 
fall  they  charged  the  daring  scout.  Merritt  was  on  the 

[MS] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

lookout  too,  and  sent  a  company  of  soldiers  to  Cody's  re- 
lief. They  arrived  none  too  soon.  A  quick  volley  and 
the  Indians  retreated.  Cody  mounted  his  horse  and 
galloped  back  to  Merritt. 

"Well  done,  Cody,  well  done,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Pretty  close  call,"  Cody  cried  exultantly,  waving  the 
chieftain's  topknot  in  the  air.  "That  was  Yellow  Hand, 
Chief  of  the  Cheyennes,  and  here's  the  first  scalp  for 
Custer." 


[146] 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
PAWNEE  BILL  HEADS  THE  LAND  BOOMERS. 

N  THE  spring  of  the  following  year  after  his 
experience  with  the  claim  jumpers,  Gordon 
W.  Lillie  was  sent  with  a  tribe  of  Pawnee 
Indians  to  join  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West. 
Lillie  was  to  act  as  interpreter.  Returning 
to  the  agency  he  was  made  white  chief  of  the  Pawnee 
tribes,  succeeding  Major  Frank  North.  It  was  due  to  his 
persistent  fair  dealings  and  his  every  effort  to  advance 
their  cause  that  to  the  Indians  and  those  who  knew  him 
he  became  known  as  "Pawnee  Bill." 

"Why  is  it,"  mused  Pawnee  Bill,  "that  Oklahoma  is  not 
opened  up  for  the  white  settlers?" 
The  question  was  easily  answered. 
GRAFT! 

In  his  constant  intercourse  and  association  with  the  In- 
dians he  gained  the  fact  that  all  the  existing  claims  of  the 
American  redman  to  that  section  of  the  Indian  Territory 

P471 


THRILLING  LIVES 

known  as  Oklahoma,  had  ceased  and  the  lands  were  sub- 
ject to  public  entry.  Yet  whenever  a  pioneer  settled  he 
was  promptly  expelled. 

Why  was  this? 

Simply  because  it  was  a  rich  and  fertile  tract  controlled 
by  influential  cattle  men. 

Money  was  the  dominating  influence  that  kept  the 
poorer  settlers  out.  The  more  he  investigated,  the  more 
Pawnee  Bill  became  determined  to  see  if  the  land  could 
not  be  opened  for  rightful  settlement. 

At  first  it  was  difficult  to  interest  others  in  a  concen- 
trated movement.  Many  had  tried  and  after  almost 
superhuman  discouragements  had  given  up. 

On  the  morning  of  December  20,  1888,  Pawnee  Bill 
rode  into  Wichita — a  few  hours  after  the  entire  town 
knew  his  mission.  He  had  left  the  dent  of  his  courage  on 
Wichita  some  years  before  and  the  citizens  recalled  it. 
They  flocked  to  his  banner.  A  mass  meeting  was  called  for 
that  night.  Pawnee  Bill  laid  before  the  gathering  his 
plans,  harangued  to  good  advantage,  he  answered  the 
heckling  of  the  undecided ;  he  finally  thrust  his  enthusiasm 

into  every  heart. 

[148] 


RIGHT  TO  LAND 

"Men,  listen  to  me,"  he  addressed  them,  with  cheeks 
and  eyes  aflame,  with  whole-souled  enthusiam,  "this  land 
is  ours — yours  and  mine — we  are  entitled  to  it.  Years 
have  gone  by  since  it  passed  from  control  of  the  Indians. 
If  it  belonged  to  them,  if  they  were  in  anyway  getting 
the  benefit  of  it,  if  it  were  against  any  law  in  the  land  for 
us  to  get  our  share,  I  would  be  the  last  to  urge  you  to 
action.  :  f. !  _ ;  j  3  :"$ 

it.  it*,!  1  <£i 

"You  can  look  for  little  aid  from  Congress — too  much 
money  and  influence  are  back  of  the  men  who  have 
usurped  the  territory  for  their  cattle.  We  are  justified 
in  entering  this  property  by  the  Homestead  Act  of  1879, 
which  says — 'all  lands  belonging  to  the  United  States  to 
which  the  Indian  title  has  been  or  may  hereafter  be  ex- 
tinguished shall  be  subject  to  the  right  of  pre-emption 
under  the  conditions,  restrictions  and  stipulations  provided 
by  law/  Men,  I  claim  that  you  and  I  have  just  as  much 
right  to  that  land  as  the  cattle  men  who  now  control  it, 
and  yes — by  thunder,  we  have  more  right — the  right  that 
citizenship  gives  to  every  honest  man — men,  are  you 
with  me?" 

"You  bet,"  came  the  answer  in  a  chorus. 
[149] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

No  sooner  had  the  wires  flashed  the  arrival  of  Pawnee 
Bill  and  the  mass  meeting  at  Wichita  than  he  was  del- 
uged with  large  quantities  of  mail  from  every  State  and 
Territory  in  the  Union.  There  were  letters  of  inquiry, 
some  condemned  the  project,  but  the  vast  majority  asked 
for  information  as  to  how  the  writers  could  join  the 
venture. 

Pawnee  Bill  organized  sub-colonies  in  Kansas,  Arkan- 
sas, Nebraska  and  Texas.  The  one  in  Omaha  enlisted  over 
two  thousand  enthusiasts,  sending  on  a  delegation  to 
confer  with  Pawnee  Bill  at  Wichita. 

The  colonies  as  yet  did  not  have  a  central  head,  each 
were  governed  locally,  and  as  a  result  concentrated  action 
was  lacking.  Pawnee  Bill  was  unanimously  chosen  as  the 
Oklahoma  Boomer  Leader. 

On  January  1,  1889,  a  detachment  of  Boomer  Eggles- 
ton's  forces  broke  away  and  made  a  settlement  in  Okla- 
homa. They  were  promptly  expelled  by  the  soldiers  and 
many  rushed  over  to  join  Pawnee  Bill's  colony. 

Eight  days  later  Pawnee  Bill  and  his  followers  pitched 
camp  at  Arkansas  City.  They  were  met  by  Captain 
Woodson  and  the  Seventh  Cavalry,  reinforcements  hav- 

[150] 


LILLIE  HANDCUFFED 

ing  been  sent  out  from  Fort  Leavenworth;  also  Chiefs 
Mayer  and  Bushyhead,  of  the  Cherokee  Nation,  had  or- 
dered their  mounted  Indian  police  to  the  assistance  of 
the  cavalry.  It  may  be  worth  while  noting  that  open 
charges  were  made  that  the  Indian  police  were  being  gen- 
erously subsidized,  in  fact  maintained,  by  the  rich  cattle 
men. 

Finding  that  his  efforts  here  at  entering  Oklahoma 
were  fruitless,  Pawnee  Bill  moved  with  his  forces  to 
Honeywell,  Kansas,  in  the  night  of  the  29th.  On  the 
following  day  Lieutenant  Elliott  and  a  detachment  of  cav- 
alry took  up  their  position  across  the  line  just  opposite 
the  colony.  It  was  a  trying  position.  Wordy  conflicts 
were  frequent,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  cool  head  and 
masterly  leadership  of  Pawnee  Bill  there  might  have  been 
serious  trouble  many  times. 

On  February  1st  all  was  in  readiness  to  make  the  en- 
trance. During  the  night  Pawnee  Bill  mounted  his  horse 
and  dashed  across  the  border  to  investigate  and  lay  out 
the  route  for  the  invasion  next  day.  He  was  shortly  after- 
ward surrounded  by  a  squad  of  soldiers,  overpowered 
and  taken  from  his  horse  and  handcuffed  to  the  back  of 
a  commissary  wagon,  and  in  that  way  the  gallant  leader 


THRILLING  LIVES 

was  ignominiously  forced  to  march  twenty  miles  on  foot 
over  the  burning  ground  to  the  border  line. 

"Won't  be  safe  for  you  to  try  this  again,"  one  soldier 
yelled.  Pawnee  Bill  made  no  answer.  His  fight  was  a 
bigger  one  than  engaging  with  a  minion  of  Uncle  Sam. 

The  order  was  given  and  Pawnee  Bill  with  his  colony 
started  further  West,  intending  to  go  a  distance  of  about 
twelve  miles,  then  cross  the  Bitter  Creek  and  Secaspie 
River,  which  at  that  time  were  swollen  to  impassibility  on 
the  bridges.  Once  over,  Pawnee  Bill  figured  that  by  get- 
ting the  two  impassible  streams  between  his  forces  and 
the  soldiers,  they  would  be  better  prepared  to  make  the 
dash. 

"Pawnee  Bill  here?"  shouted  a  mounted  messenger. 
"Important  messages  for  him." 

And  such  they  proved  to  be.  One  was  from  the  com- 
mittee in  Washington,  D.  C.,  stating  that  the  Lower 
House  had  just  passed  the  Oklahoma  Bill,  and  the  other 
was  from  the  Board  of  Trade  in  Omaha  urging  him  not 
to  make  entry  until  the  bill  was  acted  upon  by  Congress. 

"Well,  darn  their  skin,"  Pawnee  Bill  exclaimed,  "I've 
stirred  them  to  action  at  last."  A  meeting  was  called  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  HOTEL, 


A  COZY  CORNER. 


AT  CODY,  WYOMING 


AT"T-E."RA  HCH 


THE  CITY  OF  CODY,  WYOMING 
OF  ITS  FOUNDED 


THE  PEOPLE'S  CHAMPION 

when  a  committee  from  Caldwell  arrived,  was  in  session. 
The  committee  told  Pawnee  Bill  it  was  necessary  for  the 
good  of  all  that  he  should  wait. 

"I  can  wait,  all  right,"  he  answered.  "But  some  pro- 
vision must  be  made  for  my  people." 

It  was  decided  to  let  Pawnee  Bill  and  his  sturdy  band 
of  pioneers  have  the  use  of  every  vacant  house  in  Caldwell 
and  also  the  Fair  Grounds. 

In  March  the  bill  passed,  the  news  was  received  in  the 
West,  particularly  in  Pawnee  Bill's  camp,  with  demon- 
stration and  rejoicing.  Pawnee  Bill  was  congratulated 
from  far  and  near,  press  and  public  the  country  over  were 
loud  in  their  praises  of  the  heroic  boomer  leader,  the  man 
who  wore  the  mantle  of  the  people's  champion,  made 
sacred  by  the  life's  blood  of  Carpenter,  Crouch  and  Okla- 
homa Payne. 

President  Harrison  issued  a  proclamation  that  Oklahoma 
would  be  opened  on  April  22,  1889,  at  twelve  o'clock 
noon. 

Preparations  were  made  for  the  entry.  Thousands 
thronged  the  boundary  line,  and  all  were  in  breathless  ex- 
pectancy for  the  great  event.  The  Seventh  Cavalry  was 
stationed  at  Caldwell.  Pawnee  Bill  had  been  joined  by 

[153] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

his  brother,  Albert  Lillie — now  a  wealthy  rancher  living 
near  Pawnee. 

The  colony  moved  to  Honeywell  and  entered  the  Cher- 
okee strip  on  April  18th  with  about  four  thousand  and 
two  hundred  followers  of  Pawnee  Bill. 

Floods  retarded  their  progress  and  several  were 
drowned  in  crossing  overflown  rivers.  At  Hackberry  a 
halt  was  made  for  dinner.  A  courier  dashed  up,  informing 
Pawnee  Bill  that  the  cavalry  under  Captain  Woodson  was 
collecting  all  the  boomers  on  the  line  at  Bull  Foot  and 
holding  them  under  guard  until  noon  of  the  opening  day. 
Lillie  saw  the  disadvantage  he  and  his  colony  would  be 
placed  under  by  being  thrown  together  with  about  seven 
thousand  men  eager  for  land.  He  decided  quickly.  A 
move  was  made  twelve  miles  west  to  Turkey  Creek  when 
camp  was  made  until  April  21st.  Then  they  marched 
across  the  open  country,  drawing  up  at  the  Oklahoma  line 
at  dark  of  the  same  day. 

That  evening  Pawnee  Bill  sauntered  out  for  a  walk — 
to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts.  The  following  day  was  to 
bring  its  own  big  events — the  gritty  boomer  leader  was 
about  to  see  the  fulfillment  of  his  one  greatest  desire — 

[154] 


PAWNEE  BILL  A  BOOMER 

Oklahoma  free  to  the  settlers.  Unconsciously  he  walked 
a  mile  or  so. 

"Halt,  stay  where  you  are!"  rang  out  a  stern  com- 
mand as  a  young  mounted  policeman  rode  up.  "You're 
one  of  that  boomer  gang,  aren't  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  get  back  of  the  line  and  stay  there  until  the 
cannon  signal  to-morrow — and  say,  is  Pawnee  Bill  with 
your  outfit?" 

"He  was  over  there  a  little  while  ago." 

"Tell  him  he'd  better  stay  out  of  here  until  noon 
to-morrow." 

"That  so?    Why?" 

"We've  got  orders  to  shoot  him  on  sight." 


[155] 


CHAPTER  XV. 
BUFFALO  BILL   MADE  A   BRIGADIER-GENERAL. 


FTER  the  thrilling  duel  with  Yellow  Hand 
the  army  moved  on.    It  was  on  August  third 
that  the   command  reached   Goose   Creek, 
joining  General  Crook's  forces.    Cody  was 
enthusiastically  greeted  by  Crook,  who  had 
heard  much  of  his  heroic  deeds.    After  one  day  in  camp 
the  commands  headed  for  Tongue  River,  leaving  the 
wagons  behind,  thence  starting  in  a  westerly  direction. 

Buffalo  Bill  was  sent  ahead,  andi  he  soon  discovered  the 
Indian  trail,  judging  it  to  be  about  four  days  old,  and 
from  its  size  estimated  that  about  seven  thousand  Indians 
had  passed.  For  several  days  the  soldiers  pushed  on 
without  seeming  to  make  much  headway  on  the  redskins. 
Some  time  after,  when  Cody,  again  in  the  lead,  mounted 
a  hilltop  and  scanned  the  surrounding  country  far  and 

[157] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

wide  with  field  glasses  a  cloud  of  dust  caught  his  eye. 
It  proved  to  be  General  Terry's  command.  Terry's  scouts 
had  evidently  seen  Buffalo  Bill,  and  reported  back  to  the 
commander  that  there  were  Indians  ahead.  Terry  at 
once  went  to  the  post.  Shortly  after,  Buffalo  Bill's  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  a  body  of  soldiers 
forming  into  skirmish  line.  He  also  saw  a  party  of  In- 
dians who  later  proved  to  be  friendly  scouts  with  Terry's 
army.  The  Seventh  Cavalry,  much  to  Cody's  amazement, 
was  thrown  into  battle  line. 

Then  it  dawned  upon  the  scout  that  there  had  been  a 
mistake.  He  had  been  seen  and  taken  for  the  outpost  of 
Sioux  warriors.  Spurring  his  horse,  he  rode  toward  the 
skirmish  line.  Five  hundred  rifles  were  leveled  at  him. 
He  waved  his  hat,  and  when  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  soldiers  Colonel  Weir  recognized  Cody  and  rode  out 
to  greet  him. 

"Boys,  it's  Buffalo  Bill !"  Weir  shouted,  as  they  dashed 
up  to  the  lines.  The  regiment  gave  Cody  three  rousing 
cheers.  It  was  a  proud  moment  in  the  scout's  life  to  be 
thus  received  by  the  army.  That  night  both  commands 
went  into  camp  on  the  Rosebud. 


SCARED  WHOLE  ARMY 

"Gee,  that  was  funny,"  Cody  was  thinking,  "I  scared 
the  whole  army  into  lining  up  for  battle." 

A  few  days  later  Cody  was  selected  to  go  on  a  scouting 
expedition  with  General  Mills.  He  was  to  ride  on  the 
pilothouse  of  a  steamboat  and  keep  watch  on  the  river 
banks  for  Indian  trails.  Two  companies  were  landed 
after  a  short  trip,  and  Cody  with  another  guide  was  in- 
structed to  push  on  ahead  and  reconnoiter  the  vicinity. 
They  came  upon  a  fort  built  and  occupied  by  Colonel 
Rice  and  his  men.  Cody  returned  to  his  command  and 
was  ordered  with  dispatches  to  General  Whistler,  whose 
steamboat  was  forty  miles  down  the  river.  The  journey 
was  made  over  bad  lands  in  just  four  hours. 

"Cody,  I  want  you  to  take  some  information  back  to 
General  Terry,"  Whistler  said.  "I  can't  get  anyone 
around  here  to  risk  it;  if  you  will,  I'll  see  that  you  are 
well  paid." 

"Never  mind  the  pay,"  Cody  replied.  "Get  your  dis- 
patches ready  and  I'll  start  at  once."  In  due  time  he 
reached  General  Terry.  The  latter  read  the  dispatches 
and  held  a  consultation  with  General  Crook.  The  com- 
mands then  started  for  the  dry  fork  of  the  Missouri  River, 
where  Indians  had  been  reported.  Cody  was  sent  with 

[159] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

dispatches  again  to  Colonel  Rice,  who  was  still  camped  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Glendive  Creek,  on  the  Yellowstone, 
eighty  miles  away. 

He  started  at  night,  through  a  new  country,  in  a  driz- 
zling rain,  and  with  a  poor  mount.  At  daylight  Cody 
stopped  for  a  bite  of  breakfast  and  a  rest.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  was  asleep.  Suddenly  he  was  awakened  by 
a  roaring,  rumbling  sound.  Seizing  his  gun  and  drag- 
ging his  horse  deeper  into  the  bushes,  he  crawled  to  the 
steep  side  of  a  bank  and  looked  over. 

In  the  distance  was  a  herd  of  buffalo  being  chased  and 
fired  at  by  thirty  Indians.  For  two  hours,  gun  in  hand, 
expecting  to  be  discovered  and  attacked  at  any  minute, 
Buffalo  Bill  watched  and  waited  for  the  redskins. 

They  did  not  see  him.  At  nightfall  he  started  again. 
Bearing  off  to  the  East  for  several  miles,  he  semi-circled 
the  Indians'  camp  and  at  daylight  reached  Colonel  Rice 
without  adventure.  Starting  back  the  next  day  with  dis- 
patches to  Terry,  Cody  overtook  the  command  at  Deer 
Creek. 

This  for  a  period  ended  Cody's  scouting  career.  He 
obtained  leave  to  return  to  New  York  for  a  visit  with  his 
family,  shortly  afterwards  returning  West  to  meet 

[Kb] 


VISITS  BIG  HORN 

Major  Frank  North  with  whom  he  was  to  enter  the  cattle 
business. 

In  1878-79  Cody  successfully  starred  in  a  drama,  en- 
titled "The  Knight  of  the  Plains  or  Buffalo  Bill's  Best 
Trail." 

In  1880  the  famous  scout  was  bereaved  by  the  death  of 
his  little  daughter  Orra.  She  was  buried  in  Mount  Hope 
Cemetery,  Rochester,  by  the  side  of  her  brother  Kit  Car- 
son. In  1882  another  daughter  was  born — she  was  named 
Irma  and  is  still  living. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Buffalo  Bill  made  his  first 
visit  to  the  valley  of  the  Big  Horn.  Cody  was  impressed 
with  its  remarkable  beauty  and  determined  it  the  ideal 
place  for  his  future  home.  He  selected  a  site  near  two 
little  lakes,  naming  them  after  his  two  daughters  Irma  and 
Orra,  In  testimony  of  the  valuable  service  he  had  ren- 
dered his  country,  Cody  was  later  on  appointed  Brigadier 
General  in  the  State  National  Guard  of  Nebraska.  He 
actively  served  in  that  capacity  for  many  years,  but  when 
a  moment's  rest  came  Cody  was  to  be  found  at  his  home 
in  the  West  near  the  little  lakes. 

Once  when  standing  there  a  Sioux  warrior  came  up  to 
him.  This  man  was  unusually  intelligent  and  desired  that 

[161] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

his  children  should  be  educated.  He  sent  his  two  sons  to 
Carlisle  and  himself  took  great  pains  in  learning  the  white 
man's  religious  beliefs,  though  he  still  clung  to  his  old 
savage  customs  and  superstitions.  A  short  time  before 
he  talked  with  Cody  large  companies  of  Indians  had  made 
pilgrimages  to  join  one  big  conclave  for  the  purpose  of 
celebrating  a  Ghost  dance.  The  authorities  attempted  to 
stop  it.  The  Indians  resisted  and  blood  was  spilled. 
Among  the  slain  were  the  sons  of  the  Indian  who  stood 
beside  the  lake. 

"It  is  written  in  the  Great  Book  of  the  white  man,"  the 
old  Chief  said  to  Buffalo  Bill,  "that  the  Great  Spirit— the 
Nan-tan-in-chor — is  to  come  again  on  earth,  the  white 
man  in  their  big  villages  go  to  their  council  lodges 
(churches)  and  talk  about  the  time  of  his  coming.  Some 
say  one  time,  some  another,  but  they  all  know  the  time 
will  come,  for  it  is  written  in  the  Great  Book.  It  is  the 
great  and  the  good  among  the  white  men  that  go  to  these 
council  lodges,  and  those  that  do  not  go,  say,  'It  is  well ; 
we  believe  as  they  believe.  He  will  come/ 

"It  is  written  in  the  Great  Book  of  the  white  man  that 
all  human  beings  on  earth  are  the  children  of  the  one 
Great  Spirit.  He  provides  and  cares  for  them.  All  he 


INDIAN'S  PHILOSOPHY 

asks  in  return  is  that  his  children  obey  him,  that  they  be 
good  to  one  another,  that  they  judge  not  one  another, 
and  that  they  do  not  kill  or  steal.  Have  I  spoken  truly 
the  words  of  the  white  man's  Book?" 

"You  have." 

"The  red  man,  too,  has  a  Great  Book.  You  have  never 
seen  it;  it  is  hidden  here."  He  pressed  his  hand  against 
his  heart.  "The  teachings  of  the  two  books  are  the  same. 
What  the  Great  Spirit  says  to  the  white  man,  the  Nan-tan- 
in-chor  says  to  the  red  man.  We,  too,  go  to  our  council 
lodge  to  talk  of  the  second  coming.  We  have  our  cere- 
mony, as  the  white  man  has  his.  The  white  man  is 
solemn,  sorrowful;  the  red  man  is  happy  and  glad.  We 
dance  and  are  joyful,  and  the  white  man  sends  his  soldiers 
to  shoot  us  down.  Does  their  Great  Spirit  tell  them  to  do 
this? 

"In  the  big  city  (Washington),  where  I  have  been, 
there  is  another  big  book  (the  Federal  Constitution) 
which  says  that  the  white  man  shall  not  interfere  with  the 
religious  liberty  of  another.  And  yet  they  come  out  to 
our  country  and  kill  us  when  we  show  our  joy  to  Nan- 
tan-in-chor.  We  rejoice  over  his  second  coming;  the 
white  man  mourns,  but  he  sends  his  soldiers  to  kill  us  in 


THRILLING  LIVES 

our  rejoicing.  Bah!  The  white  man  is  false.  I  return 
to  my  people,  and  to  the  customs  and  habits  cf  my  fore- 
fathers. I  am  an  Indian." 

The  old  Chief  folded  his  blanket  around  him  and 
stalked  away. 

"After  all,"  mused  Cody,  "every  question  has  two  sides 
to  it." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
OPENING  OF  THE  CHEROKEE  LAND  STRIP. 


T  WAS  a  red  sun  that  broke  April  22  into  day, 
a  coloring  that  betokens  storm,  but  the  con- 
flict was  not  to  be  between  elements,  but 
men.  And  it  raged  viciously.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  had  flocked  to  Oklahoma 
weeks  before  the  memorable  day  of  opening.  The  prairie 
became  a  melting  pot  of  races.  Gamblers,  thugs,  assassins, 
adventurers,  men,  women  and  children  were  huddled 
along  the  border  line. 

On  every  side  was  gambling,  carousing  and  fighting 
with  all  the  trimmings  that  one  might  expect  when  such 
a  motley  crowd  gathered.  There  were  some,  thousands 
in  fact,  bent  on  a  legitimate  errand,  other  thousands  were 
there  to  find  easy  prey.  Food  prices  soared  to  the  pinnacle 
where  only  a  robust  bank  roll  could  purchase,  articles  of 
apparel  brought  the  fanciest  of  prices,  but  every  one 


THRILLING  LIVES 

seemed  to  have  money,  the  clink  and  rattle  of  gold  and 
silver  was  heard  on  every  side. 

Pawnee  Bill's  colony  was  aloof  from  excitement  and 
terror  that  prevailed  a  few  miles  down  the  line — he  exer- 
cised wonderful  control  over  his  people,  and  they  realized 
that  he  was  the  master  with  their  very  best  interests  at 
heart. 

The  morning  passed  quickly,  men  unhitched  horses 
from  their  wagons,  cutting  away  the  harness  that  might 
impede  their  flight.  The  women  gathered  in  bunches 
preparing  to  follow  the  wake  of  the  others,  and  every- 
where good  nature  prevailed. 

Across  the  border  line  only  ten  feet  away  the  mounted 
police  were  patrolling,  while  a  detachment  of  cavalrymen 
swung  the  signal  cannon  into  position.  At  quarter  to 
twelve  Pawnee  Bill  had  the  bugle  sounded,  the  colony 
stretched  out  along  the  line  of  entry. 

"Men,"  he  began,  "in  another  few  minutes  the  signal 
will  be  given — my  work  for  you  is  nearly  done — each  of 
you  now  must  do  for  yourself.  We  are  in  a  good  posi- 
tion, we  are  in  the  choicest  part  of  the  Cherokee  strip, 
those  of  you  who  have  strong  mounts  ride  farthest  along 

[166] 


SIGNAL  GUN  FIRED 

to  give  the  others  a  chance.  Get  ready  now  and  when  she 
fires,  jump." 

Horses  pranced  and  chafed  at  their  bits,  they  seemed  to 
know  what  was  expected  of  them,  the  men  wished  each 
other  good  luck.  Their  long  days  of  hardship  were  over, 
another  few  seconds  and  each  would  be  dashing  away  to 
locate  his  future  home. 

Boom !    Bang !  roared  the  signal  cannon. 

A  thousand  horse  hoofs  pounded  the  dry  ground,  and 
an  immense  sheet  of  dust  wrapped  itself  around  the  mad- 
racing  riders.  Pawnee  Bill  was  mounted  on  his  fleetest 
mare  "Bonnie  Bird,"  he  soon  took  the  lead.  Turkey  Creek 
was  his  destination,  twenty  miles  away.  He  made  the 
run  in  sixty-five  minutes.  It  was  there  that  he  located  a 
town  site. 

The  great  race  was  over,  everyone  staked  off  his 
ground.  Those  that  entered  with  Pawnee  Bill  fared  well, 
the  best  section  of  the  entire  strip  was  theirs  to  choose 
from.  Lillie  in  the  early  days  as  a  cattleman  had  ranged 
over  thousands  and  thousands  of  acres  in  Oklahoma,  he 
knew  its  every  trail,  and  he  knew  the  best  land. 

Oklahoma  became  his  permanent  home.  He  invested  in 
cattle  and  became  actively  interested  in  all  that  portended 


THRILLING  LIVES 

for  the  public  welfare.  Time  rolled  on  and  he  was  elected 
to  the  presidency  of  the  Arkansas  City  bank,  which  office 
he  still  holds.  Despite  the  fact  of  business  cares  at  Paw- 
nee, Major  Lillie  pined  for  excitement,  something  to  get 
the  red  blood  coursing  through  his  veins  as  in  the  days  of 
old.  The  travel  fever  seized  him. 

One  day  his  brother  strolled  in  the  bank  and  found  the 
Major  pondering  over  a  lot  of  railroad  maps. 

"Going  on  a  trip?" 

"Yes,  Al,  and  I'm  going  to  take  you  with  me." 

"Whereto?" 

"Oh,  around  the  country,  I'm  going  to  organize  a  Wild 
West  and  Far  East  exhibition." 

"You  must  be  crazy." 

"Well  we'll  take  a  chance  anyway."  And  as  good  as 
his  word  Major  Lillie  began  the  organization  of  a  show 
that  was  to  see  many  ups  and  downs  and  that  sooner  or 
later  was  to  figure  mightily  in  the  big  amusement  enter- 
prises of  the  world. 

The  first  attempt  was  a  crude  affair.  Lillie  painted  all 
the  wagons  himself,  just  to  see  that  they  were  done  right. 
He  bought  horses,  secured  the  services  of  a  fine  band  of 
Pawnee  Indians  and  the  season  commenced. 

[168] 


MAJOR.  LILLIE:S  OKLAHOMA  HOME. 


OFF  TO  EUROPE 

Reverses  greeted  the  show  at  every  hand.  The  section 
it  played  through  was  not  interested  in  cowboys  or  In- 
dians or  the  Wild  West.  It  was  hard  going  for  Pawnee 
Bill. 

"Confound  it,"  he  said  one  day,  "there  must  be  some- 
thing wrong,  this  show  is  alright,  and  the  public  wants 
entertainment.  But  they  wont  come.  I'll  stick  until  they 
do  or  bust." 

And  he  did  both. 

For  a  few  seasons  the  show  played  to  various  streaks  of 
fortune.  It  was  a  hand-to-mouth  affair  nearly  all  the 
time. 

"All  I  had  to  eat  for  three  days  was  one  apple,"  con- 
fided Al  Lillie  to  the  author  not  long  ago. 

But  finally  fortune  turned.  The  show  seemed  in  a 
single  night  to  swivel  from  a  loser  to  a  big  profit  maker. 
Thus  encouraged,  Pawnee  Bill  had  ideas  of  expanding  his 
scope. 

"Why  not  go  to  Europe?"  some  one  suggested. 

And  soon  after  came  an  offer  that  was  too  tempting  to 
overlook.  There  was  to  be  a  World's  Fair  at  Antwerp. 
Nations  from  every  continent  were  to  be  represented. 


THRILLING  LIVES 

"Just  the  place  for  your  Wild  West,"  one  of  his  mana- 
gers confided  to  Lillie. 

"It  don't  sound  so  very  good  to  me." 

"But  I've  been  there  a  dozen  times  and  know  how  crazy 
those  people  will  he  to  see  this  show." 

Almost  against  his  better  judgment  Major  Lillie  was  in- 
duced to  take  the  trip  across  the  seas. 

It  didn't  take  long  after  landing  for  the  Major  to  see 
that  the  natives  were  very  much  interested  in  his  exhibi- 
tion. They  would  flock  around  the  tents  from  morning  to 
night.  This  was  during  the  time  that  the  show  was  get- 
ting in  readiness  to  exhibit.  Elaborate  preparations  were 
made  to  accommodate  the  thousands  of  spectators. 

"Say,  Pawnee  Bill,"  exclaimed  his  manager,  "look  at 
that  jam  of  people,  I  tell  you  this  is  going  to  be  a  knock- 
out, we'll  stand  'em  in  so  tight  that  we'll  have  to  take  the 
painted  letters  off  the  tent.  Don't  it  look  good — aren't 
you  glad  you  came?" 

"I'll  tell  you  better  after  a  week  or  so,"  the  Major  re- 
plied. 

The  clay  of  opening  arrived  at  last.  Banners  swept  the 
breeze,  bands  played,  spielers  in  brazen  voice  announced 


A  CRUSHING  BLOW 

the  different  events,  and  the  box  office  was  ready  to  ac- 
commodate the  crowds  that  would  jam  in. 

"Now  watch  'em  come,"  exclaimed  the  excited  and 
jubilant  manager. 

There  were  thousands  of  people  on  the  exposition 
grounds,  they  walked  around  the  front  entrance  of  the 
Wild  West  with  bulging  eyes.  They  craned  necks  to  get 
a  peep  over  the  top  canvas,  they  were  astounded  at  the 
cowboys,  they  were  interested  in  everything  that  went  on 
outside,  but  that  was  all. 

Only  a  handful  paid  admission. 

It  was  a  crushing  blow. 

And  so  it  lasted.  For  weeks  they  would  not  spend  a 
dollar  to  see  the  exhibition.  Pawnee  Bill  used  every  cent 
he  had  to  pay  salaries  and  expenses,  and  when  the  exposi- 
tion closed  he  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  resources.  After 
securing  return  tickets  for  his  people  he  had  just  enough 
left  for  himself  to  take  a  second  passage  back.  The  ani- 
mals and  entire  equipment  were  left  in  Antwerp. 

Pawnee  Bill  returned  to  America  a  much  wiser  and 
sadder  man.  He  set  to  work  one  day  figuring  how  much 
he  owed.  It  was  not  a  day's  task  but  a  week's.  The  sum 
was  staggering — over  a  half  million  dollars.  There  was 


THRILLING    LIVES 

only  one  thing  to  do,  face  his  creditors  and  tell  them  his 
troubles.  A  meeting  was  called. 

"Gentlemen,"  began  Pawnee  Bill,  "I  have  figured  up 
my  debts,  they  amount  to  something  over  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  you  are  my  sole  creditors,  every  cent 
that  I  owe  has  been  lost  honestly  in  the  show  business." 

"Have  you  a  proposition  to  offer?" 

"I  have  a  little  property  left,  it  would  not  bring  over  a 
few  thousand  dollars,  I  don't  want  you  to  take  that,  I  want 
and  I  intend  to  pay  each  and  every  one  of  you  dollar  for 
dollar.  But  you  have  to  help  me." 

"Can  you  suggest  a  plan?" 

"It's  this,  I  am  going  to  work  for  you,  each  of  you, 
until  every  dollar  I  owe  is  paid  back.  I  want  you  to  give 
me  more  time." 

"Willingly,"  one  said,  and  they  all  agreed. 

"And  beside,  I  want  you,  gentlemen,  to  raise  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  between  you,  and  lend  it  to  me. 
With  that  capital  I  will  get  out  of  debt." 

It  was  an  astounding  proposition.  The  creditors  sat 
spellbound  at  the  request,  which  seemed  nervy  enough  for 
a  man  to  make  who  was  in  pawn  then  for  a  half  million. 

"Lillie,  I  believe  in  you,"  one  of  the  heaviest  creditors 


RAISES  BIG  LOAN 

said,  "and  for  one  I'm  going  to  see  you  through."  Then 
turning  to  the  others,  "are  you  gentlemen  willing  to  take 
this  chance?" 

"Yes,"  came  the  reply  and  the  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars was  raised  for  the  undaunted  showman. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  WILD  WEST,  ITS  PROGRESS,  HISTORY 
AND  IMPORTANCE. 

O  MY  very  good  friend,  Mr.  Louis  E.  Cooke, 
I  am  indebted  for  the  facts  of  this  chapter. 
For  thirty-five   years   Mr.   Cooke  has  been 
most  prominently  identified  with  all  the  big 
shows,  such  as  W.  W.  Cole,  Forepatigh,  Sells, 
Barnum  &  Bailey,  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West,  Pawnee  Bill's 
Far  East,  which  have  known  and  benefited  by  his  capable 
labors. 

The  facts  in  this  chapter,  from  Mr.  Cooke,  who  has 
followed  the  Wild  West's  career,  will  prove  of  double 
value,  interesting  and  authoritative. 

In  1882  the  citizens  of  North  Platte,  Nebraska,  all  of 
whom  were  fighting  patriots  of  the  most  indomitable  red, 
white  and  blue  stripes,  resolved  to  hold  a  first  Fourth  of 
July  celebration,  of  the  unique  and  exhilarating  character 
of  the  day,  with  power  to  select  the  features  for  the  "Old 

r  175.1 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Glory"  blow  out,  and  to  make  all  arrangements  appertain- 
ing thereto.  Great  was  the  general  surprise,  apprehension 
and  remonstrance  when  Col.  Cody  announced  that  the  feats 
and  festivities  of  the  day  would  be  heroically  localized  to 
include  wild  buffaloes,  wild  steers,  wild  bronchos,  wild  In- 
dians, cowboys,  noted  plainsmen,  personally  identified  with 
recent  stirring  events,  and  other  strenuous  attractions 
mostly  inclined  to  buck  at  the  mere  sight  of  civilization. 
The  attendance  was  unprecedented  for  that  section,  the 
whole  country  for  a  radius  of  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  being  temporarily  depopulated. 

Thus  in  a  still  distant  and  debatable  region,  a  wilder- 
ness over  which  the  buffalo  roamed  and  the  hostile  savage 
prowled;  under  most  difficult  and  dangerous  conditions; 
in  furtherance  of  a  purely  patriotic  purpose,  was  roughly 
organized  an  ephemeral  celebration,  destined  through  Col. 
Cody's  efforts  and  masterful  personality  to  become  not 
only  the  progenitor  of  all  the  "Frontier  Day"  State  and 
Inter-State  tournaments  since  and  still  given  in  the  West, 
and  ranking  as  the  most  popular  attraction  at  its  greatest 
holiday  gatherings,  but  to  serve  as  the  basic  idea  for  an 
American  revelation;  border  warfare  and  illustriously  il- 
lustrative educational  entertainment;  the  only  one  of  its 


FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

kind,  and  which  has  electrified  and  conquered  the  civilized 
world,  and  all  the  rulers  and  greatest  soldiers,  statesmen, 
educators,  scientists,  artists,  horsemen  and  historians 
thereof. 

Realizing  from  the  strange,  spirited  and  unprecedented 
object  leason  created  through  his  efforts  at  North  Platte, 
its  magnificent  and  meritorious  possibilities,  in  1882  Col. 
Cody  enthusiastically  devoted  all  his  practical  knowledge 
of  the  plains  and  intimate  acquaintance  and  superior  in- 
fluence with  both  the  white  and  red  denizens  thereof,  to 
the  organization  of  "Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West,"  which 
gave  its  initial  performance  at  Omaha,  Neb.,  in  May,  1883, 
and  was  witnessed  by  the  writer,  and  even  though  then 
lacking  many  of  the  notable  exclusive  features  and  original 
living  attractions  from  time  to  time  since  introduced,  it 
scored  so  instantaneously  and  heavily  that  it  became  fam- 
ous in  a  day,  and  en  route  to  Boston  was  greeted  by 
record-breaking,  boundlessly  enthusiastic  crowds  on  the 
race  tracks  and  in  the  fair  grounds  where  it  was  at  first 
compelled  to  exhibit.  Its  season  at  the  Hub  was  succeeded 
by  its  first  one  in  New  York  City,  at  Gravesend  Race 
Track,  where  its  success  was  so  instantaneous  and  un- 
qualified as,  upon  its  removal  to  grounds  adjoining  the 

[177] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Brighton  Beach  Race  Track,  Coney  Island,  to  induce  it 
to  establish  thereon  its  first  enclosed  arena  and  grand 
stand.  Next  in  sensationally  progressive  order  came  its 
extraordinary  six  months'  season  in  co-operation  with  Mr. 
Erastus  Wiman  at  Erastina,  Staten  Island,  where  in  the 
presence  of  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  it  in- 
augurated the  precedent  for  summer  open-air  exhibitions 
which,  in  various  forms,  have  since  come  to  stay  at  the  big 
seaside  resorts  and  elsewhere. 

Then  came  the  memorable  winter  season  of  1886-7,  in 
which  Col.  Cody  set  the  whole  amusement  world  agog 
with  v/onder  and  admiration  in  connection  with  the  "Wild 
West,"  by  inaugurating  in  Madison  Square  Garden,  New 
York  City,  a  gigantic  new  era  and  departure  in  colossally 
realistic  scenic  production  under  the  personal  direction  of 
Mr.  Louis  E.  Cooke,  with  the  aid  of  such  famous  pro- 
ducers as  the  late  Steele  Mackey  who  wrote  the  scenario 
of  the  great  Drama  of  Civilization;  with  scenic  effects 
from  the  brush  of  Mr.  Matt  Morgan,  who  was  acknowl- 
edged as  one  of  the  greatest  artists  of  the  day,  with  such 
mechanical  effects  as  were  worked  out  by  Mr.  Nelse  Wald- 
ron,  the  master  mechanic  who  devised  the  first  double  or 
moving  stage  used  in  a  theatre.  Day  after  day  and  night 


BEFORE  THE  QUEEN 

after  night,  the  Wild  West  and  Col.  Cody  attracted 
throngs  of  the  illustrious  veteran  Indian  fighters  under 
whom  he  had  served  as  Chief  of  Scouts,  in  many  a  hard- 
fought  campaign,  and  both  native  and  foreign  representa- 
tives of  every  branch  of  military  service.  Such  authorities 
as  Sheridan,  Sherman,  Merritt,  Carr  and  Miles,  showered 
congratulations  and  encomiums  upon  their  old  friend  and 
implicitly  trusted  comrade  in  arms  and  on  the  war  path. 

Thus  heralded  and  indorsed,  in  1887  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild 
West  made  its  first  trip  to  Europe  to  prove  the  most  popu- 
lar feature  of  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee,  held  in  celebration 
of  the  semi-centennial  of  her  benign  reign.  Earl's  Court, 
London,  was  selected  as  the  location,  upon  which  at  an 
enormous  expense  was  built  a  huge  arena  and  a  grand 
stand  of  20,000  seating  capacity.  These  and  other  im- 
provements have  been  preserved,  and  Earl's  Court  is 
locally  known  as  "London's  Playground."  So  unparal- 
leled was  the  Wild  West's  prestige  that  Queen  Victoria 
was  induced  to  visit  it,  and  the  magnitude  of  the  compli- 
ment involved  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
her  Majesty's  first  public  appearance  since  the  death  of 
her  husband,  Prince  Albert,  twenty  years  before.  Nor 
did  her  Majesty's  gracious  recognition  end  there,  for  so 

[179] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

deeply  was  she  impressed  and  delighted  with  the  Wild 
West's  novel,  electrifying  and  educational  superexcellence, 
that,  by  her  special  command,  a  performance  was  given  for 
the  entertainment  of  the  three  thousand  royal  representa- 
tives assembled  from  every  part  of  the  vast  British  Em- 
pire and  the  globe,  in  honor  of  the  Jubilee  with  which  the 
fiftieth  year  of  her  sovereignty  was  so  joyfully  crowned. 
On  that  occasion  the  Prince  of  Wales  (Edward  Seventh), 
taking  Col.  Wm.  F.  Cody  aside,  said  to  him: 

"Colonel,  look  around  you  and  you  will  see  more 
Royalty  than  I  ever  before  have  seen  at  any  time,  and  un- 
doubtedly more  than  ever  was  assembled  on  any  one  oc- 
casion in  the  World's  history  or  is  likely  ever  again  to 
be." 

Returning  to  New  York  in  1888,  the  Wild  West  ap- 
peared for  the  summer  season  of  that  year  and  for  the 
second  time  at  Erastina,  and  in  1889  again  crossed  the  At- 
lantic to  become  the  leading  attraction  of  Paris,  during  the 
Exposition  Universale,  an  arena  and  grand  stand  having 
been  built  for  it  the  previous  winter  in  the  military  zone 
outside  the  old  walls  of  Paris,  at  Nueilley.  In  the  fall  of 
the  same  year  the  exhibition  moved  to  Barcelona,  Spain, 
and  thence  crossed  the  Mediterranean  to  Naples,  Italy, 

[180] 


INDIAN  OUTBREAK 

where  it  opened  January  26,  1890.  Passing  on  to  Rome, 
the  Wild  West  next  visited  all  of  the  leading  cities  of  Aus- 
tria, Hungary  and  Germany,  including  Vienna  and  Berlin. 
The  Sioux  Indian  outbreak  at  Pine  Ridge  Agency, 
known  as  the  "Ghost  Dance  War,"  caused  Col.  Cody  to 
peremptorily  close  his  exhibition  at  Strasburg,  Alsace,  and 
to  start  post  haste  to  lend  a  strong  hand  in  the  threatened 
conflict.  The  exhibition  was  put  in  winter  quarters  in  an 
old  castle  near  Banfeldt,  and  Major  Burke,  having  the  big 
contingent  of  Indian  Chiefs  and  braves  in  charge,  sailed 
from  Antwerp  to  Washington,  where  in  an  interview  with 
President  Harrison,  and  at  his  special  request,  they,  one 
and  all,  promised  to  act  as  peacemakers;  which  promise 
was  faithfully  and  effectively  kept.  Meantime,  Col.  Cody 
had  reached  the  field  of  action  with  the  rank  of  Brigadier 
General  of  Militia,  and  as  Advisory  Scout  to  General  Nel- 
son A.  Miles.  Subsequently  Major  General  Jesse  M.  Lee 
and  John  M.  Burke  were  appointed  Peace  Commissioners 
representing  the  U.  S.  Government,  at  a  Grand  Council 
met  10,000  Sioux  Chiefs  and  warriors,  and  persuaded 
them  to  lay  down  their  arms  and  make  a  treaty  of  peace, 
undoubtedly  the  last  of  the  kind  that  will  ever  be  required 
between  the  Red  Man  and  the  Pale  Face. 

[181] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

April  1,  1891,  Col.  Cody  sailed  from  Philadelphia  to  re- 
join his  exhibition,  taking  with  him  from  Fort  Sheridan, 
Kicking  Bear,  Short  Bull,  and  twenty-five  other  rebellious 
Sioux  leaders,  held  as  hostages,  and  who  were  entrusted  to 
his  care  at  the  special  request  of  General  Miles  and  Sco- 
field,  that  travel  and  observation  might  modify  their  sav- 
age prejudices,  convince  them  that  the  white  man,  notwith- 
standing his  infinitely  superior  numbers  and  resources,  was 
not  inclined  to  oppress  them,  and  that  in  the  maintenance 
of  peace  and  good  will  lay  their  only  hope.  As  a  result, 
these  hostiles  became  the  best  and  most  progressive  citi- 
zens on  the  reservations. 

Reopening  at  Strasburg,  April  19,  the  continental  tour 
included  the  cities  on  the  Upper  Rhine  and  Brussels,  the 
capital  of  Belgium,  and  then  via  Antwerp,  the  wonderful 
invasion  sailed  across  to  the  "tight  little  isle,"  and  was 
continued  throughout  the  provinces  of  England,  until 
winter  found  the  exhibition  housed  in  the  Exposition 
Building  at  Glasgow,  Scotland,  altered  to  admit  of  the  pro- 
duction of  the  heroic  scenic  spectacle  of  war  and  wilder- 
ness, as  given  in  Madison  Square  Garden,  New  York  City, 
five  years  before. 


THOUSANDS  TURNED  AWAY 

Opened  at  Earl's  Court  for  the  second  time,  May  7, 
1892,  and  was  commanded  to  appear  before  Queen  Vic- 
toria, on  the  Lawn  Tennis  Grounds  at  Windsor  Castle; 
the  first  entertainment  of  any  kind  given  there  in  the 
twenty-five  years  succeeding  the  Prince  Consort's  death. 
The  honor  of  a  second  presentation  was  also  accorded  by 
Her  Majesty,  who  gave  Col.  Cody  a  magnificent  signet 
ring,  and  Mr.  Nate  Salisbury  and  Major  Burke  imperial 
souvenir  pins.  Closed  season  October  12,  sailed  for 
America,  October  15,  arrived  in  New  York  the  26th,  im- 
mediately began  pushing  the  work  of  building  Buffalo 
Bill's  Annex  to  the  Chicago  World's  Fair,  opened  it  in 
April,  1893,  and  to  such  phenomenally  continuous  patron- 
age, that  the  attendance  rivalled  that  of  the  Fair  itself. 
In  the  spring  of  1894,  opened  Ambrose  Park,  Brooklyn, 
upon  which  over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  had  been 
expended  in  improvements  and  additional  conveniences. 
On  the  road  in  1895,  and  in  the  spring  of  1896  followed 
the  Barnum  &  Bailey  Show  in  Madison  Square  Garden, 
in  the  course  of  its  four  weeks'  season  there  being  com- 
pelled to  turn  clamoring  thousands  from  its  doors  from 
lack  of  capacity,  every  seat  being  sold  from  days  to  weeks 
in  advance,  after  which  the  exhibition  began  touring  the 


THRILLING    LIVES 

country  as  a  traveling  organization  under  the  able  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  James  A.  Bailey,  and  the  succeeding  five  con- 
secutive home  seasons  were  also  inaugurated  in  the 
Garden  and  continued  with  undiminished  eclat  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  the  Dominion  of  Can- 
ada, and  as  far  West  as  San  Francisco,  even  including 
many  prosperous  cities  younger  than  itself,  now  orna- 
menting the  redeemed  wilderness,  and  transforming  the 
dark  and  bloody  region  of  its  birth.  The  enthusiasm  with 
which  it  was  there  received  is  simply  beyond  adequate 
description,  and  swelled  into  a  continuous  ovation  most 
vigorously  participated  in  by  the  grizzled  old  timers,  to 
whom  its  historic  truthfulness  and  realistic  reproductions 
of  stirring  events,  and  glorious  pastimes,  "all  of  which 
they  saw,  and  part  of  which  they  were,"  appealed  like  a 
resurrecting  trumpet.  The  test  it  thus  courted  was  the 
severest  to  which  it  could  be  put,  and  the  result  not  only 
speaks  volumes  for  its  character,  but  furnished  the  key- 
note of  its  success  throughout  the  world. 

At  the  close  of  the  traveling  season  of  1902,  Col.  Cody 
and  his  army  of  braves  and  rough  riders  of  the  world, 
once  more  took  the  trail  leading  across  the  big  salt  waters, 
and  appeared  for  the  ensuing  winter  at  Olympia,  London, 

[184] 


CODY  EULOGIZED 

making  farewell  tours  of  England,  Scotland  and  Wales  in 
1903-4.  In  1905,  on  the  famous  Champ  de  Mars,  it  more 
than  duplicated  its  previous  rousing  Parisian  triumphs.  In 
1906,  opening  at  Marseilles,  France,  it  made  its  final  con- 
tinental tour,  which  included  Italy,  Hungary,  Galicia,  Sla- 
vonia,  Bohemia,  Croatia,  Belgium,  Austria  and  Germany, 
and  in  November  returned  home,  with  added  victorious 
wreaths  bound  on  its  brow,  having  visited,  in  the  last  four 
years,  countries  and  principalities  that,  besides  patois, 
spoke  seventeen  different  languages. 

While  this  is,  and  is  intended  to  be,  but  little  more  than 
a  summary  itinerary  of  "Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West  and 
Congress  of  Rough  Riders  of  the  World,"  it  is  alone  suf- 
ficient to  forestall  eulogy  and  establish  a  firm  conviction  of 
its  transcendent  wondrous  worth  and  superexcellence  as 
universally  recognized  by  the  stranger  abroad  as  the  friend 
at  home.  Thus,  Col.  Cody  and  the  enterprise  of  which  he 
is  the  creator,  stand  conspicuously  and  uniquely  alone,  as 
a  mighty  and  marvelous  educative  and  instructive  influ- 
ence ;  a  credit  to  their  country  and  a  delight  and  benefit  to 
the  world.  And  as  they  are,  so  will  they  remain. 

As  may  be  readily  imagined,  the  difficulties  in  staging 
this  monster  enterprise  were  many  and  varied.  For  a 

[185] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

number  of  years  Johnny  Baker  has  had  active  charge  of 
the  arena,  his  directorship  has  been  nothing  less  than  mar- 
velous. 

Mr.  Baker  has  been  with  the  exhibition  since  its  incep- 
tion, he  is  the  foster  son  and  pupil  of  Buffalo  Bill,  and 
long  has  been  acknowledged  the  world's  foremost  expert 
marksman.  Mr.  Baker  has  had  to  manipulate  and  manoeu- 
vre the  actions  of  over  one  thousand  men,  women  and 
horses,  a  herculean  task,  one  that  has  been  accomplished 
to  the  highest  point  of  efficiency.  No  stage  director  in  the 
world  has  had  as  many  difficulties  to  surmount,  a  generous 
portion  of  credit  is  due  to  his  ever  untiring  efforts. 

In  the  Spring  of  1908  Major  Lillie  was  playing  an  all- 
summer  engagement  at  Boston,  he  made  a  flying  trip  to 
New  York,  and  following  a  conference  with  Colonel 
Cody  came  the  announcement  of  a  gigantic  merger,  the 
largest  ever  consummated  in  the  amusement  field. 

It  was  then  that  the  Buffalo  Bill  Wild  West  combined 
with  Pawnee  Bill's  Great  Far  East.  The  first  joint  season 
commenced  at  Madison  Square  Garden  in  1909. 


[186] 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
THE  JEKYLL  AND  HYDE  OF  THE  WEST. 

AWNEE  BILL  looked  long  and  carefully  at 
the  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It  was  the 
chance  he  asked  for,  he  must  make  good 
and  make  good  he  did.  Reorganizing  his 
show,  he  added  to  it,  secured  new  features 
and  with  the  experience  of  the  past  it  wasn't  long  before 
profits  began  to  appear  on  the  right  side  of  his  ledger. 

Dollar  by  dollar  his  debts  disappeared,  and  a  few  months 
after  all  bills  had  been  cleared  away  the  creditors  were 
surprised  by  checks  in  their  mail  for  the  entire  amount  of 
interest  due  from  the  very  first. 

For  several  years  he  continued  with  his  exhibition.  The 
struggles  and  worries  of  showmanship  wore  on  him.  He 
had  amassed  a  comfortable  fortune  and  decided  to  retire  to 
devote  his  time  to  raising  buffaloes.  He  purchased  the 


THRILLING  LIVES 

Casey  herd  then  located  in  Missouri  and  moved  them  to 
his  ranch  just  south  of  Pawnee.  They  became  his  sole 
study.  He  was  successful  beyond  all  expectations.  At  that 
time  there  were  not  over  a  thousand  bison  in  the  country. 
Less  than  a  generation  before  there  had  been  a  million. 
No  one  dreamt  of  their  ultimate  destruction  but  it  was 
closer  at  hand  than  the  casual  student  of  history  was 
aware.  To  the  westward  march  of  progress,  the  blame 
has  been  laid,  but  Lillie,  as  many  others  knew,  it  was  the 
failure  of  the  government  to  take  steps  necessary  to  pro- 
tect the  bison  from  disappearing  altogether.  Major  Lillie 
prepared  a  bill  to  be  introduced  in  Congress  asking  that 
immediate  action  be  taken  to  perpetuate  the  purely  Ameri- 
can animal. 

At  that  time  the  government  owned  a  small  herd  in  Yel- 
lowstone Park,  but  it  did  not  multiply  rapidly.  The  bill 
that  Lillie  wanted  introduced  in  Congress  would  have  pro- 
vided an  appropriation  to  secure  a  ranch  far  removed  from 
civilization,  as  buffaloes  do  not  thrive  otherwise.  They 
multiply  better  when  turned  out  summer  and  winter,  as 
nature  intended  they  should  be ;  a  buffalo  calf  will  survive 
a  blizzard  that  would  mean  death  to  the  toughest  of  ranch 
cattle.  Nature  has  taught  them  to  defy  winter  and  has 

[188] 


OFFERS  BUFFALOES 

provided  them  with  a  coat  of  sufficient  warmth  to  keep 
them  from  suffering  with  the  cold. 

Pawnee  Bill  worked  for  months  to  have  the  matter 
taken  under  consideration  but  the  bills  were  side-tracked. 
Finally  his  persistence  was  rewarded  by  the  query : 

"Suppose  we  carry  these  bills  through,"  asked  a  Con- 
gressman, "where  will  we  buy  the  buffaloes  ?" 

"You  don't  need  to  buy  them,"  Pawnee  Bill  replied,  "I 
will  donate  my  entire  herd  to  the  Government." 

Still  time  dragged  on  and  nothing  seemed  to  be  reached 
in  the  shape  of  a  conclusion  that  Pawnee  Bill  desired. 
Steps  were  finally  taken,  however,  to  preserve  the  bison 
and  Major  Lillie  had  won  a  great  victory.  For  years  he 
collected  all  the  pure  blooded  buffalo  that  he  could  buy. 
He  spent  most  of  his  time  studying  their  traits.  One  day 
it  struck  him  that  a  new  breed  of  bison  might  be  discovered 
by  interlining  with  domestic  cattle ;  the  experiment  proved 
a  vast  success,  Pawnee  Bill,  at  this  time  has  the  largest 
individual  herd  of  pure  blooded  buffaloes  in  the  world. 

In  1907  he  reorganized  his  Wild  West  and  conceived  the 
idea  of  adding  to  it  a  separate  feature  "The  Far  East," 
the  latter  section  being  composed  of  curious  peoples  from 


THRILLING    LIVES 

far  and  distant  lands.  The  venture  was  immensely  suc- 
cessful. 

As  showman  and  banker,  Major  Lillie  met  with  many 
remarkable  and  amusing  incidents.  One  day  he  was  sit- 
ting in  his  office  at  the  Arkansas  City  bank  in  Pawnee, 
when  an  old  Indian  Chief  walked  in  the  room.  The  true 
western  spirit  of  hospitality  and  man  to  man  equality  still 
prevails  in  many  sections  of  the  West,  even  an  Indian  can 
walk  in  a  banker's  private  office  and  be  entertained. 

The  Indian  had  come  on  business  connected  with  the 
show's  trip  the  next  season,  he  wanted  some  special  con- 
sideration. It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  been  on 
the  road,  in  fact,  in  all  his  years  he  had  never  left  the  boun- 
daries of  the  agency. 

Just  then  the  telephone  rang.  The  Major  talked  a  few 
minutes  then  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"What  is  that  you  make  talk  into,"  the  Chief  asked  in 
surprise ;  it  was  the  first  telephone  he  had  ever  seen.  The 
Major  explained  how  it  worked. 

"It  just  talk,  white  man  talk  though,"  the  Chief 
grunted. 

"No,  it  talk  Pawnee  too?" 

The  Chief  could  not  believe  it,  Lillie  went  to  one  of  the 
[190] 


SIGNS  BANK  NOTES 

outside  offices,  put  an  interpreter  on  the  extension  and 
then  gave  the  receiver  to  the  Chief.  For  several  minutes 
the  latter  talked,  with  every  second  his  eyes  bulging  larger 
and  larger  in  wonderment. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  Lillie  asked. 

The  old  Chief  sat  still  for  a  minute. 

"That's  one  of  the  white  man's  inventions." 

"White  man  very  smart,  to  make  that  talk  white  man's 
talk,  but  to  make  wire  talk  Pawnee  talk,  him  damn  smart." 

"Major,  excuse  me,"  a  clerk  said,  entering  with  a  hand 
full  of  greenbacks,  "will  you  please  sign  these." 

A  telegram  a  few  minutes  later  called  the  Major  to 
Chicago  in  a  hurry.  There  was  a  train  whistling  at  the 
depot,  without  stopping  Lillie  made  a  dash  for  it  just  as 
the  cars  were  pulling  away  from  the  station.  Arriving  at 
Chicago  he  transacted  his  business  and  stepped  up  to  the 
hotel  counter  to  settle  his  bill.  To  his  amazement  he  found 
that  he  had  only  a  little  small  change.  He  was  about  to 
ask  for  a  check  book  when  he  remembered  having  some 
of  the  unsigned  bank  notes  in  his  pocket.  Pulling  out  a 
sheet  of  these  he  asked  for  pen  and  ink  and  then  a  pair  of 
scissors.  The  clerk  was  thunderstruck,  it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  ever  seen  anyone  sign  greenbacks.  Before  he  had 

[191] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

recovered  his  astonishment,  Lillie  was  on  his  way  to  a 
bank  nearby. 

After  greeting  its  president  and  while  just  sitting  down 
for  a  chat,  the  banker's  bell  rang,  and  a  second  later  a 
man  entered  the  room. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  addressing  himself  to  the 
banker,  "do  you  know  this  man,"  pointing  to  Major  Lillie. 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"Well  I'm  sorry,  but  I  have  to  place  him  under  arrest." 

"Arrest,"  Lillie  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "Who  the  deuce 
are  you  ?" 

"I'm  from  a  local  detective  agency  and  have  been  in- 
structed to  take  you  in  for  forging  a  bank  note." 

Lillie's  face  was  covered  in  smiles. 

"Come  on,  sir,  or  I'll  have  to  put  the  cuffs  on  you." 

"Why,  you  idiot,"  exclaimed  the  banker,  "don't  you 
know  who  that  is.  This  gentleman  is  Major  Gordon  W. 
Lillie." 

"That  don't  entitle  him  to  sign  greenbacks,  does  it? 
Anyway  he  used  the  name  of  Pawnee  Bill." 

"That's  the  name  he  is  known  by  among  the  public  who 
[192] 


MAJOR  G.  W.  LILLIE,  CONSULTING  HIS  GENERAL 

MANAGER,     LOUIS      E.      COOKE,     AT     BLUE 

HAWK  PEAK.    MRS.  LILLIE  AND  HER  PET 

COYOTE     ON     THE     RIGHT. 


JEKYLL  AND  HYDE 

have  witnessed  his  exhibition,  he  is  a  banker  and  is  entitled 
to  sign  greenbacks  as  the  president  of  his  institution." 

The  detective  looked  sheepish. 

"Well  I'll  be  darned,  a  showman  and  a  banker  and  a  fel- 
low that  can  sign  his  own  greenbacks — well,  talk  about 
your  Jekyll  and  Hydes,  he  has  'em  all  beat  a  mile." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
CODY'S  LAST  TIME  ON  THE  BATTLEFIELD. 


HE  breaking  of  Indian  treaties  so  frequently 
and  the  invasion  of  the  Black  Hills  and  other 
sections  by  gold  seekers,  prospectors  and 
trappers  became  the  cause  of  constant  irri- 
tation, leading  to  almost  continual  contests, 
raids  and  massacres  on  the  Western  plains.  This  was  the 
condition  of  affairs  that  really  brought  on  the  war  of 
1875-76,  resulting  in  the  Custer  fight  as  well  as  many  of 
the  succeeding  ones. 

The  forfeiture  of  the  Black  Hills  and  injudicious  re- 
ductions of  rations  kept  discontent  alive  among  the  In- 
dians. When  in  1889  Congress  passed  a  law  dividing  the 
Sioux  reservation  into  many  smaller  ones  so  as  to  isolate 
the  different  tribes  or  clans  of  the  Dakotas,  a  treaty  was 
submitted,  whereby  reinstating  the  cut  off  rations  and 
paying  for  ponies  captured  or  destroyed  in  the  '76  war 


THRILLING    LIVES 

and  for  other  certain  conditions,  they  ceded  about  one- 
half  their  land,  eleven  million  acres.  Fulfilment  of  the 
conditions  was  delayed, — postponed,  forgotten,  almost  by 
Congress.  Even  after  the  land  was  being  settled  up, 
Congress  had  still  neglected  the  appropriations  and  Sit- 
ting Bull's  power  was  again  in  the  ascendant. 

At  this  time,  through  some  mysterious  mountain  phan- 
tom or  trickster,  the  "Medicine  Men"  became  easy  victims 
of  a  craze.  They  believed  that  the  Messiah  was  coming 
back  to  earth  to  use  his  miraclous  power  in  favor  of  the 
red  man,  to  crush  out  the  whites;  to  restore  everything 
to  the  idealistic  condition  of  former  years  and  re-stock 
the  ranges  with  big  game.  This  created  a  universal  fa- 
natical fervor,  not  only  among  the  Sioux  but  affected  all 
the  Indians  on  this  continent.  Former  foes  became  fast 
friends,  and  from  the  Yaquis  in  Old  Mexico  to  the  Alas- 
kan tribes  in  the  Far  North,  the  religious  ghost  dance 
festivities  fanned  the  flames  of  war.  The  Medicine  Men's 
preaching  that  the  holy  medicinal  ghost  shirts  would  pro- 
tect the  wearer,  turn  the  white  man's  bullets,  was  ac- 
cepted and  made  recruits  by  the  thousands  to  the  cause. 
The  dancing  frightened  the  settlers,  shocked  the  religious 

[196] 


CODY  TO  RESCUE 

philanthropic  friends  of  the  Indians  and  was  officially 
ordered  stopped. 

Buffalo  Bill  was  at  that  time  in  Alsace-Lorraine  with 
his  Wild  West  exhibition  and  had  with  him  seventy-five 
Indians.  Leaving  the  exhibition  in  an  old  Castle  near 
Strasburg,  Cody  left  on  fast  trains  and  hastened  on  to 
the  scene  of  strife  in  America.  The  Indians  were  brought 
home  by  Major  Burke,  they  made  a  strong  peace  contin- 
gent at  Pine  Ridge,  while,  with  General  Miles'  permission, 
Col.  Cody  hastened  on  to  see  Sitting  Bull  in  person,  feel- 
ing sure  that  his  old  enemy  and  later  friend  would  listen 
to  good  advice.  In  war  the  great  Indian  chief  was  a 
bitter  foe  and  Cody's  enemy,  in  peace  the  two  became 
friends. 

Sitting  Bull's  claim  of  the  primitive  possessions  for  ages 
beyond  the  white  man's  coming;  of  conditions  being  un- 
disturbed for  centuries  and  as  the  Great  Manitou  had 
ordained  were  the  arguments  that  he  advanced.  He  had 
all  the  old  treaties  in  his  head  in  the  Indian  legendary  man- 
ner, also  in  hieroglyphics;  he  had  a  copy  of  the  treaty 
that  set  aside  the  part  of  the  Dakota  for  the  Sioux  use. 
And  the  Big  Horn  Basin  was  to  be  used  as  a  hunting 
ground.  The  old  man  had  this  well  worn  parchment  in 

[197] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

a  buckskin  cover  and  treasured  it  as  one  would  the  arti- 
cles or  legacy  to  one's  birthright.  Sitting  Bull  had  a 
very  strong,  determined  face,  a  splendid  head,  well  set 
on  a  long-bodied  short-legged  frame. 

The  fact  that  Buffalo  Bill  was  willing  to  take  the  risk 
of  acting  as  peacemaker  with  the  Indian  chief,  alarmed 
some  well  meaning  philanthropists,  they  divining  a  sinis- 
ter motive  in  his  action.  Those  who  were  crying  the 
strongest  for  Sitting  Bull's  suppression  now  claimed  that 
his  person  was  endangered  by  the  very  man  who  had 
travelled  thousands  of  miles  at  his  own  expense,  risking 
his  all  and  with  nothing  to  gain — Buffalo  Bill.  Going 
to  a  hostile  camp  of  Indians,  chancing  all  on  the  card  of 
friendship  and  man  to  man  respect  was  a  dangerous  un- 
dertaking, but  Cody  was  prompted  to  do  so  solely  to  save 
his  red  brother  from  a  suicidal  craze.  Influence  was 
brought  to  bear  on  President  Harrison  and  the  statement 
made  that  Cody's  visit  would  bring  on  a  war,  the  chief 
executive  countermanded  the  mission.  Afterwards  Presi- 
dent Harrison  expressed  his  regrets  to  Colonel  Cody. 

Colonel  Drum,  commandant  at  Fort  Yates,  and 
Major  McLaughlin  were  ordered  to  co-operate  to  secure 
the  person  of  Sitting  Bull.  Henry  Bull,  lieutenant  of  the 

[198] 


ALL  POLICE  KILLED 

Indian  police,  had  intimated  that  the  old  chief  was  pre- 
paring his  horses  for  a  long  ride.  Couriers  were  sent  to 
tell  him  to  quietly  arrest  Sitting  Bull.  Major  Edmund  G. 
Fatchet  of  the  Eighth  Cavalry  and  a  Hotchkiss  gun  were 
sent  to  support  him. 

After  a  hard  ride,  just  at  dawn  they  saw  a  man  coming 
at  full  speed  on  Sitting  Bull's  favorite  "White  Horse,'1  a 
Kentucky  charger  that  had  been  presented  to  him  by 
Buffalo  Bill  three  years  before.  The  man  was  an  Indian 
policeman. 

"All  police  killed,"  he  yelled. 

Riding  like  mad,  they  arrived  to  find  but  few  of  the 
police  still  alive  and  still  fighting  from  Sitting  Bull's 
cabin,  being  surrounded  on  all  sides.  Volley  after  volley 
was  poured  in  unexpectedly  on  the  besiegers  and  a  few 
shells  from  the  Hotchkiss  scattered  them,  the  beleaguered 
were  relieved. 

The  attacking  party  had  reached  Sitting  Bull's  cabin 
early  in  the  morning,  surrounded  it,  and  capturing  the 
chief  in  bed,  arrested  him.  While  dressing,  his  son,  Crow- 
foot, alarmed  the  camp,  Bull  harangued  his  friends,  fren- 
zied by  the  thought,  no  doubt,  that  his  own  tribesmen 
were  his  captors,  not  feeling  for  them  that  respect  he 
would  have  had  for  the  military. 


THRILLING    LIVES 

Catch-the-Bear  and  Strike-the-Kettle  dashed  in  and 
fired,  hitting  Bull  Head  in  the  side,  who  fired  and  killed 
Sitting  Bull.  The  latter,  firing  as  he  fell,  Shave  Head 
was  shot  in  the  abdomen,  and  all  three  fell  together.  The 
fight  became  general,  until  the  arrival  of  Major  Fatchet 
and  several  police,  many  of  the  Ghost  dancers  were  killed. 
Thus  was  ended  the  life  of  the  chief  whose  faults  and 
virtues  will  long  be  a  subject  of  discussion,  but  who  will 
always  stand  as  the  great  red  chief  of  the  Uncapappa 
Sioux. 

Cody  returned  to  Nebraska,  where  he  was  ordered  by 
Governor  Thayer  to  join  the  Nebraska  National  Guard, 
with  General  Colby.  Cody  was  himself  a  Brigadier  Gen- 
eral. They  entered  the  battlefield  at  Pine  Ridge  and 
placed  the  militia  in  effective  position  to  surround  the  hos- 
tiles.  Then  Buffalo  Bill  joined  General  Miles  as  advisory 
Scout  and  used  his  great  personal  influence  to  pacify  the 
Indians.  Through  General  Miles'  stern  measures  and 
at  the  same  time  diplomatic  methods,  the  greatest  planned 
of  Indian  uprisings  was  quickly  suppressed  through  the 
bloody  battles  of  Wounded  Knee  and  The  Mission — they 
were  the  last  struggle  of  the  red  man — the  finale  of  all 
Indian  wars. 

[200] 


BUFFALOBILL  BIDS  YOU  GOOD  BYE 


A  SUGGESTION  DESIGNED  BY  LOUIS  E.   COOKE 

FOR    THE    PROPOSED    MONUMENT    TO    THE 

AMERICAN    INDIAN,    TO    BE    ERECTED 

IN   NEW  YORK  HARBOR  BY  MR. 

RODNEY    WANAMAKER. 


CHAPTER  XX 
BUFFALO  BILL'S  VAST  PROPERTIES. 

ACK  to  the  land,  back  to  the  farm,  is  the  warn- 
ing cry  of  the  nation's  most  distinguished 
social  economists — political  and  commercial 
leaders,  railroad  magnates  and  statesmen — 
conservation,  irrigation  and  subjugation  of 
arid  territory  to  the  husbandmen's  productive  power  is  a 
national  issue. 

With  the  teeming  millions  of  people,  with  the  sense 
and  judgment  from  the  congested  centers,  having  already 
appropriated  all  the  available  land,  necessity  forces  atten- 
tion to  the  possibilities  in  the  almost  equal  number  of 
virgin  acres,  classed  as  arid,  that  engineering  skill  can 
make  even  more  productive  than  the  naturally  watered 
districts. 

This  is  the  subject  of  intense  discussion  today,  but 
years  and  years  ago  plain,  practical  men  conversant  with 
the  immense  unpeopled  territory  of  the  West,  like  Col. 
Cody,  Congressman  Cary  of  Wyoming  and  others,  acted 

[201] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

as  pioneers  in  advocating  a  governmental  and  state  move- 
ment that  would  assist  in  giving  additional  homes  to  mil- 
lions of  our  people  and  thus  augment  the  nation's  produc- 
tive possibilities,  with  a  certainty,  through  irrigation.  Like 
all  movements  it  had  to  have  its  missionaries,  and  it  is 
one  of  Col.  Cody's  (Buffalo  Bill)  pleasant  memories  that 
with  his  experience,  suggestion  and  money  he  was  in  the 
advance  guard  among  those  demonstrating  the  utility, 
feasibility  and  practicability  of  achievement  on  these  lines. 
It  was  his  fortune  in  the  early  days,  as  well  as  his  duty 
as  an  army  scout,  to  learn  the  secret  recesses  and  impreg- 
nable fortresses,  furnished  them  by  nature,  to  which  the 
aboriginal  contestants  of  the  white  man's  progress  re- 
treated to  live  in  security  and  peace.  Thus  it  was  that 
he,  an  early  hunter,  trailed  and  scouted,  in  that  then  most 
extremely  dangerous  and  secluded  home  of  the  red  man, 
strongly  fortified  with  immense  mountains  as  a  barrier 
to  encroachment — now  known  as  the  Big  Horn  Basin. 
With  the  army  as  scout  and  on  expeditions  with  the  gal- 
lant Custer,  Mills,  Carr,  Miles  and  others,  he  became  fa- 
miliar with  the  valley  and  its  surrounding  wonderland — 
the  Yellowstone  Park,  the  Teton  Range,  the  Snowy 

[202] 


CODY  CANAL  BUILT 

Pryor,  Shoshone  and  Big  Horn  Mountains  that  separated 
it  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 

In  1893  Buffalo  Bill  and  many  conferees  took  up  the 
initiative  in  bringing  about  its  settlement.  He  and  his 
associates  acquired  under  the  Gary  act  the  first  claims 
that  were  endorsed  by  the  national  and  state  governments 
and  began  the  pioneering  of  its  settlement.  The  opening 
struggles  in  such  a  scheme  are  but  a  repetition  of  history 
and  were  as  usual  eventually  overcome.  The  first  Cody 
canal  was  built,  success  and  prosperity  developed  grad- 
ually until  now  the  future  is  assured  and  the  empty  valley 
is  being  traversed  by  railroads  finished  and  many  others 
projected,  thousands  of  farmers,  miners'  and  prospectors, 
so  that  this  vast  valley,  the  size  of  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts, is  dotted  with  towns  and  cities. 

Progress  was  so  rapid  that  all  the  available  land  under 
the  first  canal  was  taken  and  through  Col.  Cody's  influ- 
ence and  surrender  of  his  proprietary  rights  to  the  govern- 
ment, the  Reclamation  Service  has  been  performing  one 
of  its  most  gigantic  tasks  in  the  furthering  of  future  pros- 
perity. This  is  none  other  than  the  recently  completed 
highest  dam  in  the  world,  known  as  the  Shoshone  Dam. 

Buffalo  Bill  owns  thousands  of  cattle  and  horse*,  is 


THRILLING    LIVES 

heavily  interested  in  many  mining  properties  in  Arizona 
and  elsewhere,  owns  and  controls  the  Irma  Hotel  at  Cody, 
Wyo.,  the  Wapiti  Inn  near  Cody  on  the  Yellowstone  and 
the  Pahaska  Teepee  at  the  foot  of  Sylvan  Pass,  sixty  miles 
from  Cody.. 

For  over  half  a  century,  Buffalo  Bill  has  been  before 
the  public.  He  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  had  a  child- 
hood, he  was  thrust  early  among  the  rough  scenes  of 
frontier  life,  to  play  a  man's  part.  He  enlisted  in  the 
army  before  he  was  of  age,  and  did  his  share  in  uphold- 
ing the  flag  during  the  Civil  War  as  ably  as  many  a 
veteran  of  forty,  and  since  then  he  has  remained  for  the 
most  part,  in  his  country's  service,  always  ready  to  sacri- 
fice every  personal  interest  and  go  to  the  front  in  any 
time  of  danger.  He  has  achieved  distinction  in  many  and 
various  ways.  He  is  president  of  the  largest  irrigation 
enterprise  in  the  world,  president  of  a  colonization  com- 
pany, of  a  town  site  company,  and  two  transportation  com- 
panies. He  is  the  foremost  seout  and  champion  buffalo 
hunter  of  the  world,  one  of  its  greatest  crack  shots  and 
its  great  popular  entertainer.  He  is  broad-minded  and 
progressive  in  his  views,  inheriting  from  both  father  and 
mother  a  hatred  of  oppression  in  any  form. 

[204] 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

Taking  his  mother  as  a  standard,  he  believes  the  fran- 
chise is  a  birthright  which  would  appertain  to  intelligence 
and  education,  rather  than  to  sex.  It  is  his  public  career 
that  lends  an  interest  to  his  private  life,  in  which  he  has 
been  a  devoted  and  faithful  son,  a  kind  and  considerate 
husband,  a  loving  and  generous  father.  "Only  the  names 
of  them  that  are  upright,  brave,  and  true  can  be  honorably 
known,"  were  his  mother's  dying  words;  and  honorably 
known  has  his  name  become,  in  his  own  country  and  be- 
yond the  seas.  He  has  visited  every  country  in  Europe, 
and  has  looked  upon  the  most  beautiful  of  Old  World 
scenes.  He  is  familiar  with  all  the  splendid  regions 
of  his  own  land  but  to  him  the  New  Eldorado  of  the 
West — the  Big  Horn  Basin — is  the  fairest  spot  on  earth. 

And  here,  in  the  shadow  of  the  Rockies,  yet  in  the  "very 
light  of  things"  it  is  his  wish  to  round  out  the  cycle  of 
his  days,  as  he  began  them,  in  opening  up  for  those  who 
come  after  him  the  great  regions  of  the  still  undeveloped 
West.  It  is  here  that  Buffalo  Bill  wishes  once  more  to 
roam,  and  when  the  curtain  of  life  finally  falls,  it  will  be 
his  "Home,  Sweet  Home." 

[205] 


CHAPTER  XXI 
PAWNEE  BILL'S  BUFFALO  RANCH  AND  HOME. 

OR  years  Gordon  W.  Lillie — Pawnee  Bill — 
lived  in  a  modest  log  cabin  built  by  his  own 
hands.  It  still  stands  in  Pawnee,  Oklahoma, 
a  memento  of  his  hard  work  and  untiring 
efforts  to  rung  the  ladder  of  success. 
Throughout  privations  and  adversity,  the  days  of  law- 
lessness, when  brave  men  were  made  and  tempered 
over  night,  when  the  government  called  him  to  duty 
as  guide,  scout,  sheriff,  and  when  the  territory  was 
nearly  torn  asunder  with  internecine  strife,  when  vandals 
and  cutthroats  infested  every  trail,  when  the  effort  to 
make  Oklahoma  free  for  settlers  was  met  with  stubborn 
resistance  by  the  cattle  interests,  when  he  nosed  through 
every  danger  a  dozen  times  a  day,  when  blood  had  to  be 
spilled  in  defense  of  the  weak — then  Major  Gordon  W. 
Lillie  was  a  man  of  action,  his  arm  and  pocketbook  were 

[207] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

always  available  for  the  less  fortunate,  he  was  the  Indian's 
friend,  he  was  the  white  man's  strongest  safeguard.  After 
years  of  vicissitude  and  privation  he  struck  his  gait,  and 
after  a  gradual  rise  he  became  in  succession  white  chief 
of  the  Pawnee  Tribe,  president  of  the  town's  leading  bank, 
and  succeeded  in  making  his  mark  one  that  will  indelible 
his  great  and  honored  career  on  the  escutcheon  of  the 
State  of  Oklahoma.  Political  honors  have  been  offered 
and  gracefully  declined.  Major  Lillie  cared  nothing  for 
this  sort  of  leadership  glory,  he  preferred  to  remain  in  the 
rank  and  file  and  do  all  in  his  power  to  further  the  inter- 
ests of  the  city  that  he  loves  and  the  State  that  honors  and 
respects  his  conscientious  citizenship. 

Last  December,  1910,  his  new  bungalow  was  completed. 
It  stands  atop  the  Blue  Hawk  Peak,  so  named  after  one 
of  the  greatest  of  Indian  warriors  and  a  great  friend  of 
Major  Lillie.  Hundreds  of  invited  guests  from  the  elite 
centers  of  Europe  and  America  journeyed  out  to  the 
prairie.  Cowboy  boots  and  the  patent  leathers  of  effete 
society  toed  each  other  under  the  Major's  hospitable  table. 
The  citizens  of  Pawnee  turned  out  en  masse  to  welcome 
the  glorious  home-coming  of  their  beloved  and  esteemed 
neighbor — it  was  an  occasion  long  to  be  remembered. 

[208] 


FRIENDS  GATHER 

Artists,  writers,  men  famous  in  commercial  lines  and 
the  bright  lights  from  many  professions  gathered  to  do  the 
Major  homage.  In  testimony  of  their  esteem  many  famous 
artists  contributed  original  and  specially  painted  oil  panels 
for  the  bungalow,  among  these  were  artists  Charles 
Schreyvogel,  Deming,  H.  H.  Cross,  Emil  Lenders  and 
Charles  Stevens.  Among  the  others  present  were:  The 
Hon.  Wm.  F.  Cody  (Buffalo  Bill),  H.  Wilson  and  wife 
of  Philadelphia,  Dr.  Moore,  Major  John  M.  Burke,  Johnny 
Baker,  Louis  E.  Cooke,  Albert  Lillie,  Joseph  Miller,  of 
Bliss,  Oklahoma;  S.  T.  Rock,  of  Pawnee;  Michael 
Russell,  of  Fargo,  North  Dakota;  Mark  L.  Stone,  of 
Paris,  France;  Henry  Valliers,  of  Vienna;  Major  Mc- 
Laughlin,  of  Philadelphia,  and  Frank  Winch,  of  New 
York. 

A  week  of  hilarity  followed.  Each  day  had  its  own 
pleasure — automobile  trips  in  Buick  cars  over  the  plains, 
Indian  dances,  small  game  hunting  and  receptions,  all 
topped  off  with  the  wondrous  spectacle  of  witnessing 
Colonel  Cody  kill  a  buffalo  as  he  did  years  ago. 

It  was  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  that  Pawnee  Bill 
had  made  to  himself  years  afore,  to  the  effect  that,  should 
fortune  ever  favor  him,  he  would  stand  loyally  with  the 

[209] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

village  that  loved,  respected  and  helped  through  his  trou- 
blesome years  of  struggle. 

The  bungalow  would  grace  any  exclusive  residential 
section  in  the  world.  It  was  erected  at  a  cost  of 
$75,000,  and  holds  within  its  walls  furnishings 
and  ornaments  that  approximate  $100,000  more.  The' 
structure  is  of  a  stone  exterior  made  from  the  native  rock 
taken  from  the  location  on  which  it  stands. 

The  town  of  Pawnee  lies  nestled  at  the  foot  of  Major 
Lillie's  fifteen  thousand  acres  of  his  buffalo  ranch — where- 
on graze  the  largest  private  herd  of  buffaloes  in  the  world. 
Approach  is  made  through  two  massive  stone  gateways, 
ornamented  with  the  gilded  steel  initials  "P.  B.,"  which 
were  made  from  the  rifle  barrel  once  carried  by  his  great 
friend  and  benefactor,  Major  Frank  North. 

Circling  along  a  sloping  knoll,  close  to  the  edge  of  an 
artificial  lake  with  its  thousands  of  gallons  of  water  and 
shaded  by  trees  from  every  section  of  the  world,  is  a  road 
laid  with  tons  of  low  grade  ore  from  one  of  the  extensive 
mining  properties  that  the  Major  owns  in  Colorado  and 
Mexico.  The  drive  is  a  mile  to  the  hill  top,  at  frequent 
intervals  intersectioned  with  stone  statues  indicative  of 
scenes  and  characters  of  the  early  wild  western  days. 

[210] 


BLUE  HAWK  PEAK 

To  your  right  the  eye  travels  in  unobstructed  view  for 
miles,  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  new  magnificent  hospital 
and  sanitarium  that  Pawnee  Bill  erected  for  the  city.  A  bit 
further  along  you  see  the  ten  thousand  dollar  public  school 
house  that  also  stands  as  a  memorial  to  the  Major's  gen- 
erosity. And  further  yet  looms  up  the  old  log  cabin  that 
housed  Pawnee  Bill  through  his  early  days  of  privation 
and  hardship. 

Approaching  the  hilltop,  the  eye  is  staggered  with  the 
beauteous  panoramic  splendor  of  scenic  glory  that  unfurls 
itself  on  every  side.  Blue  Hawk  Peak  is  the  highest  point 
of  elevation  in  the  county — for  miles  and  miles  the  eye 
ranges  over  rolling  plains,  by  day  golden  brown  under  a 
soft  summer-like  sun,  and  by  night  punctuated  here  and 
there  with  the  sizzling  flames  of  a  genuine  old  time  prairie 
fire. 

The  first  building  approached  is  the  Pawnee  and  Osage 
Indian  council  and  medicine  house.  A  most  wondrous 
testimonial  to  the  building  skill  of  the  native  Indians. 
There  are  only  two  of  these  structures  in  the  world.  Time 
and  civilization  have  left  but  little  for  the  fast  disappear- 
ing red  man.  Major  Lillie  was  determined  that  as  long 
as  he  had  a  home,  the  friends  and  foes  of  an  earlier  period 


THRILLING    LIVES 

should  not  want  for  a  place.  It  is  a  circular  affair,  with 
walls  four  feet  thick  made  of  stone  and  mud  overlapping 
huge  timbers  set  end  to  end  and  notched.  There  is  not  an 
iron  nail  in  the  entire  building,  and  the  whole  was  con- 
structed by  Indian  labor  according  to  the  plans  of  former 
council  houses  and  paid  for  by  the  Major  and  then  do- 
nated to  the  tribe  as  a  perpetual  remembrance  of  his  es- 
teem and  friendship  to  the  Pawnee  and  Osage  Indians. 
It  is  here  that  they  gather  in  all  their  regalia,  feathers  and 
fanciful  colored  blankets  for  their  war  dances  and  exhor- 
tations. The  ceremonies  are  of  very  deep  purport  to  the 
Indians  and  usually  last  from  three  days  to  a  week,  the 
strictest  privacy  being  maintained  so  that  none  but  the 
red  men  are  allowed  ita  attend. 

Continuing  on,  you  reach  the  old  settler's  cabin,  an  exact 
replica  of  the  only  kind  of  dwelling  known  in  the  frontier 
days.  A  huge  log  cabin  with  every  detail  carried  out  to 
its  minutest  point.  There  are  three  rooms,  the  center 
being  the  living  room  and  flanked  on  both  sides  with  bed- 
rooms of  generous  proportions  and  equipped  with  just 
such  crude  furniture  as  one  would  find  in  the  days  of  '59. 

The  center  room  has  a  seven  foot  open  fireplace,  dirt 
floors,  the  old-fashioned  cupboard  with  its  heavy  crockery 

[212] 


ELEGANT  MANSION 

and  tins,  the  walls  are  embellished  with  trophies  of  the 
chase,  several  rifles  that  were  used  in  warfare,  Indian 
relics,  blankets,  tomahawks,  arrows  and  scalping  knives. 
To  the  Easterner,  this  cabin  presents  a  world  of  sugges- 
tions for  deep  study  and  retrospective  thought. 

A  bit  further  along  is  the  garage  and  stable.  An  ele- 
gant pile  of  native  stone  and  hardwood,  in  keeping  with 
the  general  exterior  finish  scheme  of  the  bungalow.  There 
are  three  automobiles,  a  dozen  of  the  finest  equipages  and 
fifteen  blooded  Arabian  and  Kentucky  horses.  A  few  steps 
more  and  the  bungalow. 

If  Aladdin  of  the  Arabian  Nights  were  to  arrive  today 
and  wanted  to  astound  the  community  with  a  building 
venture  he  would  borrow  the  plans  from  which  Pawnee 
Bill  erected  his  home.  Fifth  Avenue  in  New  York  would 
nudge  elbows  with  its  neighbor  in  genuine  pride  were 
it  placed  there. 

The  house  is  constructed  with  native  stone  taken  from 
the  site  on  which  it  stands.  The  hardwood  interior  is  all 
selected  from  the  rarest  and  most  expensive  materials  that 
go  to  make  any  home  elegant.  There  is  a  spread  of  re- 
fined lavishness  on  all  sides. 

Entering  through  massive  ston«  arches,  you  twist  the 
[213] 


THRILLING  LIVES 

knob  and  stand  beneath  the  buffalo  head  that  Pawnee  shot 
when  a  boy,  the  meat  of  which  saved  his  command  of 
scouts  from  starving  to  death.  The  interior  of  the  house 
beggars  description  of  photographer's  art  or  writer's  abil- 
ity to  hinge  words  together.  The  main  living  room  is 
rugged  with  Oriental  weavings,  the  furniture  is  leathered 
in  red,  setting  against  dark  and  precious  woods ;  a  monster 
ten  foot  open  fire  place  with  solid  bronze  hand  irons,  its 
merry  glow  of  warmth  extends  the  hearty  cheer  and  hos- 
pitality that  awaits  from  host  and  hostess — the  gallant 
and  smiling  Major  and  his  sweet,  charming  wife,  Mrs. 
Lillie,  who  will  be  remembered  before  her  retirement  as 
the  most  expert  woman  rifle  shot  that  the  world  ever 
knew. 

Drop  chandeliers  of  diamond  cut  glass  radiate  a  dazzle 
of  electricity  generated  from  the  Major's  private  plant, 
walls  leathered  in  brown  with  gold  stained  burlap  frieze 
creeping  up  to  an  old  Dutch  ceiling.  To  the  right  is  a 
cozy  little  den,  floor  tiled  with  red  and  white  flagstones, 
the  furniture  is  weathered  oak  and  another  open  fire  place 
adds  warmth  and  glow.  The  windows  in  both  rooms 
reach  the  floor,  the  glass  being  the  very  finest  imported 
bevel  plate.  The  dining  room  is  a  spacious  affair,  a  seven- 


PAWNEE'S  FIRST  CITIZEN 

foot  diamond  cut  glass  chandelier  dropping  down  to  with- 
in a  few  feet  of  the  table  that  will  seat  fifty  guests,  the 
walls  carry  tapestries  made  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
To  one  side  is  a  bay  window  with  plate  glass,  running 
nearly  twenty  feet  in  length,  topping  over  a  leather  cov- 
ered window  seat. 

The  bedrooms  are  in  various  tints  and  furnishings,  here 
and  there  are  scattered  monster  rugs  of  buffalo,  bear  or 
lion.  The  silverware  came  from  Tiffany's,  New  York,  the 
linen  and  dining  room  service  were  made  to  order  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  Europe.  Throughout  is  readily  seen  the 
effects  of  lavish  and  tasty  expenditure,  the  walls  are  hung 
with  oils  of  the  finest  masters. 

With  the  Indian  council  house,  the  old  settler's  cabin, 
and  the  up-to-date  bungalow  of  present-day  civilization, 
Major  Lillie  has  erected  a  splendid  reminiscent  tribute  to 
past,  present  and  future.  He  struggled  hard,  fought 
square  and  to-day  Pawnee,  Oklahoma,  is  right  well  proud 
of  its  famous  and  highly  esteemed  first  citizen. 


[215] 


BUFFALO   BILL— "THE  FAREWELL   SALUTE.' 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  FAREWELL  IN  THE  SADDLE. 


OOD-BYE,  Buffalo  Bill.  Good-bye,"  ten 
thousand  voices  shouted,  no,  not  shouted, 
shrieked,  as  the  famous  scout  made  his  final 
salute  and  bow  to  New  York  at  Madison 
Square  Garden,  New  York  City,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  engagement  there  in  May,  1910.  The  an- 
nouncement was  made  that  Colonel  Cody  was  beginning  a 
tour  of  the  country  that  would  be  his  last — his  positive 
farewell  in  the  saddle. 

I  was  one  of  the  ten  thousand  present  at  Madison 
Square  Garden  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night.  New 
York  couldn't  seem  to  realize  that  it  would  never  see 
the  old  plainsman  in  the  arena  again.  Every  perform- 
ance was  packed  with  thousands  of  his  enthusiastic 
friends  and  admirers.  Buffalo  Bill  and  Pawnee  Bill 
had  joined  forces,  it  was  a  tremendous  exhibition.  And 


THRILLING    LIVES 

Buffalo  Bill  told  us  that  he  would  never  come  back  to 
New  York  as  the  active  head  of  the  great  institution  that 
he  had  fathered  and  fostered  through  nearly  thirty  years 
of  wondrous  success.  He  looked  about  him  for  a  man 
worthy  to  carry  his  mantle  of  command  and  one  entitled 
to  carry  out  the  great  project  that  he  had  started.  Pawnee 
Bill  was  the  only  logical  choice. 

New  York  could  not  realize  that  Buffalo  Bill  will  here- 
after only  be  linked  to  it  in  history. 

"Buffalo  Bill  isn't  ever  going  to  come  back,"  a  man  sit- 
ting near  me  said  to  a  youngster  at  his  side. 

"Gee,  ain't  that  tough,"  and  the  lad  meant  it. 

Just  imagine  over  ten  thousand  throats  raspy  from 
cheering,  ten  thousand  men,  women  and  children  standing 
atop  seats  and  railings,  hats  in  hand,  umbrellas  and  canes 
waving — a  hundred  spotlights  pushing  sunshine  through 
every  crevice  of  flag-tinted  Madison  Square,  a  thousand 
more  men,  women  and  horses,  elephants  and  camels  sprin- 
kled over  the  tan-bark — then  picture  Buffalo  Bill,  as  dash- 
ingly handsome  as  ever,  on  a  prancing  horse,  and  the 
music — picture  this  and  you  get  only  a  mental  glimpse 
at  the  Garden  when  the  memorable  farewell  season  began. 

Nothing  like  it  has  ever  been  seen  before,  nothing  can 


WONDERFUL  EXHIBITION 

ever  approach  this  nonpareil  consummation  of  artistic 
achievement.  Buffalo  Bill  had  scoured  the  Wild  West, 
Pawnee  Bill  had  drawn  a  fine-tooth  comb  through  the 
burning  sands  of  Oriental  deserts — the  result,  a  most 
amazing  combination.  Cowboy,  Indian,  Cossack  and 
Moslem,  contribute  deeds  of  daring  that  fringe  the  danger 
line  of  death.  None  seemed  happy  unless  coquetting  with 
Madame  Disaster,  and  yet  withal,  it's  so  apparently  easy, 
so  triflingly  inconsequential,  that  even  the  most  timid  are 
rapture-bound. 

There  is  no  trickery  in  the  exhibition,  there  is  no  re- 
sorting to  magical  artifice,  there's  nothing  left  to  routine ; 
it's  just  dare-devil  chance.  I  saw  rider  after  rider  tossed 
mid-air — a  loose  clod  of  dirt,  a  slipping  surcingle,  a 
broken  bridle,  these  are  the  things  that  unlock  the  injury 
sprites. 

No  eye  so  trained,  no  brain  so  quick,  no  muscle  so 
brawny  but  what  Fate  or  accident  can't  master.  When 
you  realize  this  and  realize  that  every  participant  in  the 
spectacle  before  you  is  master  of  its  own  destiny  for  only 
a  tiny  fortuitous  second — then  you  realize  just  how  truly 
wonderful  is  the  exhibition  that  you're  witnessing.  The 

[219] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

circus  has  its  dangers,  but  the  element  of  chance  is  en- 
tirely eliminated  when  you  parallel  the  risks. 

Every  child  or  man  among  us  has  immortalized  the 
name  of  Buffalo  Bill.  He  is  the  living  epitome  of  uncivil- 
ized America.  We  watch  him  in  mimic  warfare,  his  ac- 
coutrements dazzling,  his  mount  slickened  with  care  and 
grooming,  his  every  appearance  denoting  peace  and  con- 
tentment, admiring  thousands  cheering  as  he  sweeps  a 
graceful  acknowledging  bow,  this  is  what  we  see,  and  this 
is  all  that  the  most  of  us  have  ever  seen,  but — take  a  min- 
ute away  from  to-day,  turn  back  the  page,  there's  an 
Indian  scout,  tattered,  half-famished,  blood  streaked,  a 
trusty  rifle  balancing,  an  eye-glance  as  true  as  the  steel 
over  which  it  looks,  death  and  carnage  on  every  side;  a 
horde  of  wild,  bepainted,  gore-thirsty  red  demons  lurking 
in  ambush. 

I  wonder  if  Colonel  Cody  ever  thinks  of  those  days — 
I  wonder  if  Major  Lillie  ever  thinks  of  them?  The  fron- 
tiersman has  gone.  Cooper  did  much  to  send  him  down 
to  posterity,  but  Cooper  was  impossible  in  his  unrealities. 
The  leather-stocking  heroes  of  his  fiction  were  not  actuali- 
ties. We  have  the  living,  breathing  history  before  us  to- 

[220] 


A  HUNDRED  YEARS  HENCE 

day,  in  Buffalo  Bill  and  Pawnee  Bill.    But  they  are  the 
last. 

Time  will  come  when  the  cowboy  must  go  in  training 
schools  to  learn  to  shoot  and  ride.  And  all  this  makes 
the  exhibition  the  more  remarkable.  In  the  box  next  to 
mine  sat  the  richest  man  that  America  has  ever  known.  I 
wondered  what  his  thoughts  were  as  the  old  stage-coach 
rumbled  in.  King  Commercial  met  King  Plainsman  face 
to  face  that  night 

Major  Lillie  stood  at  the  entrance  with  elbows  athwart 
the  rail.  Possibly  not  a  hundred,  except  friends,  recog- 
nized that  sturdy,  rugged  face.  I  wondered  if  the  scene 
recalled  olden  days  to  him.  The  time  when  but  an  adven- 
ture-seeking youngster  he  ran  away  from  home  to  seek 
his  fortune  in  the  West — to  roam  the  plains,  to  become 
an  adopted  son  of  Mother  Nature,  when  he  waded  icy 
streams  thigh  high  and  finally  joined  Trapper  Tom. 

From  that  day  on  Pawnee  Bill  grooved  his  way 
through  hardships  to  high  honors.  These  are  the  things 
that  caught  a  flicker  of  my  thought.  I  wonder  a  hundred 
years  hence  who  will  be  our  Buffalo  Bill  or  Pawnee  Bill, 
or  will  Grandma  take  the  youngster  aknee  and  read  to- 
day's and  yesterday's  history? 

[221] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

Just  then  a  shout,  a  piercing,  shrieking  hi,  hi,  ke,  yep 
hee,  torn  toms,  warwhoops,  and  a  mad  dashing  body  of 
horsemen,  white  and  red,  raced  on  the  bark.  A  most 
imposing  spectacle — the  Far  West  greets  the  Occidental 
East.  Copper-skins  from  the  world's  opposite  corners 
vie  with  each  other  in  feats  of  extreme  horsemanship.  A 
second  later  and  then  another  yell,  this  time  from  the  lusty- 
throated  cowboys,  and  what  a  yell — and  what  riding,  and 
what  horses.  In  quick  succession  equestrian  experts  from 
everywhere,  Sioux  and  Cheyenne  Indians,  cowboys,  Mexi- 
cans, scouts,  guides,  veteran  members  of  the  U.  S.  Sixth 
Cavalry,  a  group  of  Wild  West  rosy-cheeked  girls,  Aus- 
tralian bushmen,  Arabians,  Japanese  and  Cossacks  pranced 
into  position. 

Suddenly  a  hundred  spotlights  flooded  the  arena,  mar- 
tial music  blared,  the  curtains  parted,  and  in  rushed  Col- 
onel Cody,  the  greatest  of  all  living  scouts.  Sweeping  ac- 
knowledgments to  the  cheering  throngs,  he  charged 
straight  for  the  front.  The  great  performance  was  on. 

As  the  final  curtain  was  about  to  close,  the  storm  of 
pent-up  enthusiasm  broke — Cody  was  greeted  with  ring- 
ing cheers  and  insistent  demands  for  a  speech. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen — and  you,  my  little  friends  'way 
[222] 


CODY'S  FAREWELL 

up  there  in  the  gallery,  I  thank  you."  The  old  scout  sat 
erect  in  saddle,  there  was  a  tremble  in  his  voice.  "I  am 
about  to  go  home  for  a  well-earned  rest.  Out  in  the 
West  I  have  my  horses,  my  buffaloes,  my  sturdy,  staunch, 
old  Indian  friends — my  home  and  my  green  fields,  but  I 
never  see  them  green.  When  my  season  is  over  the  hill- 
sides and  the  meadows  have  been  blighted  by  a  wintry 
frost  and  the  sere  and  yellow  leaves  cover  the  ground.  I 
want  to  see  nature  in  its  prime,  to  enjoy  a  rest  from  active 
life.  My  message  to  you  to-night  is  one  of  farewell 
(the  old  scout's  voice  filled  with  emotion).  Thirty  years 
ago  you  gave  me  my  first  welcome  here.  I  am  grateful 
for  your  continued  loyal  devotion  to  me.  During  that 
time  many  of  my  friends  among  you  and  many  of  those 
with  me  have  been  long  since  gathered  to  the  great  un- 
known arena  of  another  life — there  are  only  a  few  of  us 
left.  When  I  went  away  from  here  each  year  before  I 
merely  said  good  night — this  time  it  will  mean  good-bye. 
To  my  little  friends  in  the  gallery  and  the  grown-ups  who 
used  to  sit  there,  I  thank  you  once  again.  God  bless  you 
all — good-bye." 

'A  deathly  silence  spread  over  the  vast  assemblage,  the 
old  scout's  horse  backed  to  the  arena's  end — the  animal 

[223] 


THRILLING    LIVES 

knelt  before  a  huge  statue  of  an  Indian  camp.  Through 
its  base  flashed  the  word  "farewell."  Then,  awakening 
from  its  stupor,  the  throng,  realizing  that  they  were  look- 
ing for  the  last  time  on  the  greatest  hero  the  plains  ever 
knew,  broke  in  ringing  cheers. 

"Good-bye,   Buffalo  Bill,  good-bye!     God  bless  you, 
too!"    There  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  Garden. 

THE  END. 


\. 


